


i'll run (because i want every moment with you)

by winterghouls



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: ...or can you, Angst, Canon Compliant, Eventual Smut, Fluff and Angst, M/M, because they're the best books ever, references from the kite runner and call me by your name, you honestly can't blame anyone here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-25
Updated: 2021-01-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:28:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 25,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28311624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winterghouls/pseuds/winterghouls
Summary: The first day Dejun meets Doyoung, he learns that the world has more colours than he knew. Including an enigmatic mystical ash purple.
Relationships: Jung Yoonoh | Jaehyun/Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung, Kim Dongyoung | Doyoung/Xiao De Jun | Xiao Jun
Comments: 18
Kudos: 60





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i don't know if i'm alone on this but doyoung and xiaojun are being too cute for their own good ever since before make a wish and i love their interactions recently so here's a bit of what i have. also loosely basing it on The Kite Runner because xiaojun reads that what an intelligent man (if you haven't read it, it's a good literary book!) and title rough condensed translation from nct’s no longer.
> 
> writing this also because going through a rough patch and writing is my coping mechanism. excuse the minor errors and inaccuracies throughout the fic. once i'm done with it will edit it all over again!
> 
> (also may be minor inaccuracies like the seasons in the beginning eg. wearing warm clothes in summer) 
> 
> enjoy!

_ The first day Dejun meets Doyoung, he learns that the world has more colours than he knew. Including an enigmatic mystical ash purple.  _

In the world of Xiao Dejun, getting a balance of company with his beloved best friends and isolation with his favourite book by the window sill is what makes life perfect. Ever since debut, he was always in a race with time. The rush against traffic congestions from the dormitory to the salon and on to their filming sites as soon as the sun rises is chaotic. While the evenings are relatively lighter, it gets exhausting when filming drags on into the wee hours of the night. Dejun doesn’t let such fatigue separate him from sparing alone time by the window seat in his favourite cafe every alternate day at 2am. If there is one thing his friends admire him for, it is how he never fails to make time for the things and people he loves.

_ For you, a thousand times over.  _

Dejun’s favourite book. The book that he keeps private to himself. The one that he can read  _ a thousand times over _ . He doesn’t know what compels him to read ‘The Kite Runner’ a billion times, but he just does. Maybe it is in the intricacy of the friendship and loyalty that he so much respects, and wishes to embody. Or maybe it is the redemption that he could see himself doing. 

His routine breaks for the first time the night before one of the biggest days of his life. Dejun settles in the cafe by midnight, this time, without a book in hand. A sight so unusual even the barista asks him if there was any special occasion. Dejun simply shakes his head while offering a smile before returning to his usual seat. He wraps his fingers around his favourite mug, one that he brings along each time he visits the cafe. Though the black matte material coat is meant for doodles, he keeps it untouched. 

Dejun is one for sentiments. He believes in the idea of eternity, wanting things to last for a long time. Such manifests in even the smallest objects and memories. Like the one time WayV doodled on their polaroid film on the day of debut, but he insisted on keeping the frame empty. 

Even without a book, he sits almost unmoving for two whole hours. Looking at his still and calm demeanour, no one would ever guess that internally, he is overwhelmed with nervousness.  _ Tomorrow is the big day. _ The conference with SM. The first time he heard about it, he was sent into a mixture of excitement and apprehension. No doubt, he has always dreamed of being a part of the big unit, but at the same time meeting an excessively large number of new people isn’t exactly his forte. Hence the idea of facing a board of directors or managers with all twenty three members of NCT is not an ideal thing to be doing the first thing the sun rises. 

He knows worrying excessively will not bring him anywhere. Yet, he makes a decision to arrive earlier than the others mainly to save himself from the awkwardness of walking into the room with a good majority of people he didn’t know. 

He snaps out of his trance when he hears the cafe door open.  _ No one ever comes at this hour. _ From the corner of his vision, he sees a tall figure, dressed in sweatpants, a sweatshirt that loosely hugging his frame and a cap that sadly restricts Dejun’s vision. Dejun cranes his head to try and catch his face but to no avail. The only time he catches something is his honeyed voice when he thanks the barista. When the man turns to his direction, he immediately snaps his head towards the window, pretending to be admiring the streetlights beneath him. 

When the enigmatic figure leaves, he lets go of the breath he didn’t know he had been holding. He struggles to read the next paragraph, going over the same lines over and over again, not registering anything that he’s reading. It’s as if the boy had come in, stole his mind away, and left for the rest of the night. Dejun checks his watch. 

_ 2 a.m. _

He gets up from his seat and walks over to the barista to get his mug washed. 

“You were checking him out, weren’t you,” the barista chuckles, grabbing the mug from Dejun’s hands. Dejun raises a brow to conceal the heat that threatens to creep up his cheeks. “He asked about you.” 

Dejun inhales deep in attempts to calm the balloons that were starting to form in his chest and then shrugs, “What’s his name?” 

The barista halts for a bit in thought before the corner of her lips curl up into a smile. “Secret, just like your name is.” She hands the mug back to Dejun. “I would have thought you’d know him though. He’s… you know, around.” 

Dejun doesn’t prompt further, not wanting to seem interested. But throughout his journey home, he cannot help but think of the barista’s words.  _ Does he come often? Does he live here? Have I seen him before?  _

***

The next morning, he jolts from his slumber ahead of the rest. He steps into the steaming hot shower, desperate to calm his nerves down. He sighs into the mirror after countless attempts of styling his hair. Before anyone else rises, he is already making his way out to the main building just a few blocks down. 

To say that the walk to the SM conference hall is daunting is an understatement. Dejun trudges in with steps heavy and slow, beads of sweat hiding behind his fringe. He is the worst at hiding his nerves. Though he wants to appear at the conference as a confident person, ready to debut in a long established group, he knows all he looks like is a sheep strayed from its herd in the pastures. 

When he enters, he is shocked to see Lucas already sitting between Jungwoo and Johnny. Lucas has his legs draped over Jungwoo’s lap, facing Johnny. They laugh about something in Korean, not something Dejun can catch really well. Mainly because of the anxiety ringing loud in his ears. Johnny offers a smile towards Dejun, causing Lucas to turn to see who it is. 

“You’re here?” Dejun asks as Lucas jumps up from his position, partially from shock. He holds his hand out for their signature handshake though his brows remain furrowed in confusion. He’s pretty sure he was the first one awake in the dorm. 

“Oh, I slept over at Jungwoo’s,” Lucas explains with an awkward smile. 

He clears his throat and throws an arm around Dejun for a consoling hug along with words of comfort. Pulling away, Dejun circles the table anxiously to look for his designated seat. He is relieved to see Hendery’s name printed in the seats beside him, thankful to have at least someone he knows by his side. Then, they linger a little longer to the other empty seats, especially those of Taeyong, Jaehyun, Mark.

For the first half an hour, no one else walks in, so the room is filled with the laughters of Lucas and Jungwoo. Though occasionally Lucas calls out to Dejun to include him into the conversation, half the time Dejun scrunches up his nose in attempts to conceal the fact that he could not comprehend what they were saying from halfway across the table. Suddenly, he wishes he had not arrived too early because sitting in the large hall felt claustrophobic. 

He nervously fidgets with his nails underneath the table as more and more people start to pour in the room, eyes glued to the black file on the table before him. It never occurs to him to look through the file in advance. Though even if it did, his nerves would’ve overpowered so much so he would not be able to understand a single word.

“Daebak,” a familiar voice reaches Dejun’s ears and his head snaps up when he realises it was none other than the leader, Lee Taeyong. He rises to his feet and offers a small bow, unlike the rest who exchanges handshakes and fistbumps. All of which includes Lucas. Dejun never realises how familiar Lucas actually is with the rest of the group until he remembers,  _ SM Rookies Lucas, NCT U Lucas, SuperM Lucas, outgoing Lucas _ ; of course, why would he not know half of the people in the room. 

Dejun shrinks into his seat afterwards, clasping his hands together again. He fumbles as his eyes nervously flicks from one thing to another before they widen from a sweet sounding voice of wonder and astonishment. He snaps his head up towards the door to see a boy sauntering into the room with hands in his pockets. 

_ Kim Doyoung _ , Dejun recognises. 

His collar hugs the base of his neck perfectly, buttons sealed with a silver brooch. The dark navy grosgrain coat drowns his figure. With the sleeves cuffing his wrist, Dejun could see his arm veins slightly protruding. While he looks ready to attend a fancy evening dinner, Dejun feels underdressed. Doyoung flips his fringe to the side, uncovering his sharp eyes, contrasting the gentleness of his other features. His cupid bow and the curved corners of his lips hold the power to magically pierce through depths Dejun could not fathom. In simple words beyond Dejun’s ability to comprehend, Doyoung is ethereal.

He traces Doyoung’s figure, almost missing the way an arm slings around Doyoung’s waist. 

Whoever lands their eyes on the well-built physique of a model-athlete would know that he is unmistakably the  _ heartthrob _ Jung Jaehyun. Unlike the rest, Jaehyun’s shirt is left unbuttoned halfway down his broad chest. A Valentino long coat loosely hanging across his shoulders. Jaehyun slides his palm past Doyoung’s waist as he takes his seat. Settling down, he grazes his teeth against his lower lips, causing deep dimples to embellish the austere of his chiseled features. 

_ They sure are on a different level.  _

The pressure seethes into Dejun’s skin, and for a moment he wonders if he really wants this. Nonetheless, his eyes fixate on Doyoung’s countenance filled with amazement. Clearly used to the scene of unfamiliar people, Doyoung leans back against his chair, relaxed and leaving Dejun chewing on his inner cheek as he admires the mystical ash purple hair that suited the latter so well.

“The last time we came here, the tables were just half filled, now they need extra chairs,” Doyoung exclaims in Taeyong’s direction, a little too loud for the distance they were in. He purses his lips and winces from the echo sent throughout the hall.

“Isn’t it?” Jaehyun offers, reaching out to stroke Doyoung’s cheek. 

Dejun averts his eyes when he feels his heart clench for reasons he did not know of. Only now does he notice that amidst his wonder, sometime, somehow, Yangyang had settled on the other side of Doyoung, staring right at him. The slightest tiny smirk across Yangyang’s lips shows that he knew exactly what Dejun was staring at. After all, that’s what friends are for.

Dejun clears his throat in pretence before looking over at Hendery by his side who reflected an expression a little more playful than Yangyang’s. 

“What?” Dejun huffs before taking the file in his hands and flipping it to the first page. 

Merely a few moments later he finds himself lost in reverie again. The boy’s glassy wide eyes, more fragile than beads of glass, sparkle underneath the lights of the room and embellish with a smile so bright.

Dejun bites his inner cheek. He never knew Doyoung looked this good in person.

To be honest, for the first part of the conference, Dejun mindlessly listens to the endless cacophony of languages: from the director and the interpreters. He fidgets with the pen as the director instructs them to flip to the first side of the sealed page. He stops toying with the pen and tears open the seal. A habit of viewing the page as a whole instead of chronologically, the first thing Dejun sees strikes a moment of epiphany and dread. 

**_NCT U #1: Taeyong, Doyoung, Jaehyun, Jaemin, Lucas, Xiaojun, and Shotaro._ **

He reads the names over and over again. 

And again.

He curses in his mind. What luck does he have to be placed in the team of some of the most famous members, Lucas included. He does not want to lift his head to see the other reactions.  _ Do they even know who he is? _ A million thoughts race through his mind. Their unmatched talents, visuals, fame, professionalism and most importantly, the pressure of being in the team of such big names. Slowly but surely, he feels added weight onto his shoulders. Nonetheless, he is calmed by the tinge of joy from seeing the name he is starting to yearn for.

While he remains glued to the bolded words, Hendery and Yangyang’s head snaps towards him. Though initially shocked, they conceal their laughter after exchanging knowing glances. 

***

Ever since the day of the conference, Dejun cannot stop thinking about the way Doyoung’s eyes glow when he laughs or his apparent restlessness towards the end of the conference. He swears he is able to trace every line of his features by now. 

As all album works that Dejun is familiar with, studio sessions do not go chronologically. Thankfully, the WayV members work together before the rest does to match the schedule of the foreign producers. With an established teamwork, their studio recording for Nectar goes smoothly without much problems. 

After the session, Dejun finds himself in the dance studio with two of his best friends, Hendery and Yangyang. Exhausted from the schedules earlier in the day, Dejun lies on Hendery’s stomach and almost immediately reverts his eyes back to his phone. Meanwhile, Yangyang is on springs, prancing about the circumference of the practice room being his usual energetic self.

Yangyang has been going on and on about how welcoming the 90s Love unit has been to him. For the most part, Dejun is staring at his phone screen, barely listening. The more Yangyang talks about his unit, the more impatient he becomes. The schedule release for Make a Wish is apparently today, after being postponed for the third time. 

“Why are they taking so long?” Dejun groans, waving his phone in the air in frustration. “Your unit releases  _ later _ than us but you already have the schedule.” 

“Maybe they’re brewing something for you and Do-- Ow!” Yangyang exclaims, interrupted by a shoe flying in his direction. 

“Shut up! He might be here,” Dejun mumbles unapologetically. 

“Oh!” Hendery widens his eyes tenfold when he catches a glance of Dejun’s notification. He gapes at the screen for a few more seconds before bursting out in a fit of laughter, shoving Dejun off his stomach. Hendery jumps on his feet and runs over to hug a puzzled Yangyang while screaming in the loudest mockery ever. 

**_Make a Wish Studio Recording - 5 August 2020_ ** **_  
_ ** **_8.00am - Doyoung, Xiaojun_ ** **_  
_ ** **_1.00pm - Xiaojun, Jaehyun_ ** **_  
_ ** **_4.00pm - Jaemin, Shotaro_ ** **_  
_ ** **_7.00pm - Taeyong, Lucas_ ** **_  
_ ** **_9.00pm - Group Recording_ ** ****__  
  
Dejun rereads the schedule over and over again. 

Hendery leans into Yangyang’s ear and whispers the news, causing the latter to be thrown into ecstasy as well. “Wah, Xiao Dejun! What a lottery!” 

To their surprise, Dejun whines loudly instead. “Why must I be paired with Doyoung hyung?”

“I don’t know, but,” Yangyang grins, nudging Hendery. “All I know is we wish we could be there to laugh at you blushing--”

“I don’t blush!” 

“You do! You should’ve seen the way your face flared when they announced your unit.”

“Shut up Liu Yangyang!” Dejun groans, covering his face with his palms. 

The night before his recording marks the first time Dejun has ever broken his routine in months. Instead, he spends his whole night ransacking his wardrobe, trying to find a nice outfit to wear. Deep down, he knows that he is only going to be there with Doyoung and two producers. But having seen the disparity between his clothes and the other members made him feel uneasy. He does not want to compete with them; he just doesn’t want to like he falls back either. 

Kun pauses at the frame of the door, jaw dropping from the mess created in the room. “Where are you going and what are you doing to your wardrobe?”

“Dejun has a date,” Yangyang grins from the corner of the bed while playing Call of Duty on his phone.

Dejun hisses, causing Yangyang to smack his lips shut.

Kun’s expression contorts into confusion before walking away. 

Dejun finally picks out a plain white shirt, and tucks the hems of the shirt into his jeans. He stares at the mirror for a good two minutes before turning to Yangyang for approval. 

Yangyang raises an eyebrow at Dejun before reverting it back at his game. “You wear that because it’d be easy for him to take it off--”

“Liu Yangyang!” Dejun yells. 

\--

Dejun settles on the couch of the studio twenty minutes before the actual recording, studying the sheets that he had received. Or at least for the first part he is. When he reaches the end of his verse, he starts to rehearse his greeting with Doyoung. It’s the first time they would actually be meeting, and Dejun is a nervous wreck.

_ Oh, hi, I’m Dejun. Hi Doyoung hyung. Wait, do I call him hyung? Is that disrespectful for the first meeting? Doyoung sunbaenim? I’m Xiaojun from WayV. Nice to meet you. Fuck, I’m so formal. _

“Oh, you’re early?” a familiar voice coming from the door frame causes Dejun to jolt out from his thoughts. “I thought so, I saw light coming from the studio.” 

He turns his head to find Doyoung peeking his head into the room with a bunny smile. He is dressed in jeans and a black adidas tracksuit with a white shirt underneath. Unlike what Dejun had expected, Doyoung looks like he had just woken up 10 minutes ago. He finds it cute, though.

“Well, you’re early too,” Dejun offers, scooting over to give Doyoung some space to sit beside him on the couch. 

“Mm, yeah, well, I was hoping you’d be here, so,” Doyoung grins, settling down. 

Dejun knows it’s a joke but he can’t help the way his heart beats excessively. Instead of responding, he lets out a chuckle and holds his music sheet in his hand, absentmindedly reading the same notes over and over again. Dejun flickers his eyes up at the glass facing them, using the reflection to admire the figure beside him, too afraid to turn. 

“So, I asked Lucas about you,” Doyoung breaks the silence, keeping his eyes on the music sheet in his hands.  _ God, no. _ “Besides the other important stuff, I heard it’s your birthday in three days.”

“Uh, really?” Dejun stutters before realising how  _ stupid _ he sounds. Of course. “Oh, I mean yes, sorry, I misheard that. Yes my birthday is, um, soon.” 

“Do you have plans?” 

“Dinner with the boys, a usual routine,” Dejun explains.

“What about breakfast?” 

“Breakfast?” he scrunches his nose. He never thought of that. “Sleeping, probably.” 

Doyoung lets out a laugh at the latter's nonchalance. “Let’s have breakfast,” Doyoung proposes, and Dejun chokes on his own saliva. He widens his eyes and leans forward to get a clearer view of Dejun. “Are you okay?” 

His eyes wide with concern only stirs butterflies in Dejun’s tummy. Not helping. 

“Yeah, I’m-- you were saying?” he clears his throat immediately trying to play it cool.

“Breakfast. I have a place I’ve always wanted to go. And I thought since it’s your birthday.”

Considering they just met, he wondered why Doyoung would ask him out for breakfast on his birthday. But he’s heard a lot of nice things about Doyoung, so he takes it as a kind gesture to welcome him in the team. “Sure,” he simply responds.  _ Sure? Sure?  _ It takes his whole might to mask his fluster, his cheeks unknowingly turn into champagne pink. 

“Good, wear something nice,” Doyoung whispers with a playfully wink, standing up right at the arrival of the producers.

To Dejun’s relief, the producers made Doyoung go first during the recording, most likely since they have worked with the latter before. He is okay with that, though. The last thing he wants is to have that  _ beautiful  _ face staring right at him through the glass window while he tries his best to croak out a singular note. 

Listening to Doyoung sing through the records is already one hell of a ride of emotions. Hearing the melodious stripped vocals right in front of his eyes in its rawest form is another. The angelic vocals that blast through the speakers of every street in Seoul has no comparison to what Dejun hears now, a velvet honeyed that resonates through the room.

When the producers call a cut, Doyoung turns to look at Dejun on the other side of the glass, grinning proudly. Dejun raises a thumbs up, his heart soaring high.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well i'm a mess after writing this chapter,  
> again there may be inaccuracies in the weather and minor grammatical stuff here and there.  
> will edit once again after the whole thing is done!

As more and more recording and schedules pile up, Dejun grows increasingly comfortable with the members. He recalls how awkward he felt the first time he met everyone, especially Doyoung. The out of place he used to feel is now overtaken by ease. Everyone is more welcoming than Dejun had initially expected. Since they are big and well-established names in the industry, he thought that they would be hard to break through. Yet, they treat him with no disparity and he finds himself warming up to them in no time. 

Considering their jam packed hours, Dejun and Doyoung barely manage to have many meaningful conversations together. For the most part, the two don’t have alone time save for occasional exchanges mid practice or the shy stolen glances from time to time. 

Whenever Dejun needs a helping hand, Doyoung is always there. Dejun’s mind often reverts to a pool of insecurity, one that plagues at the back of his mind since the start. He often remains behind after group practices to drill parts over and over again in attempts to come close to perfection. For most, Doyoung either lingers for a bit after to give Dejun the little push he needs or returns after some time to make sure he catches dinner or doesn’t stay too late. Every night he lies in bed thankful for the motivation everyone fuels him with. Before he knows it, his confidence boosts his fluency in the language, with little to no problems with conversing. 

On the night of their last group studio session, Dejun is scheduled last to record. He gets increasingly anxious when the members gradually withdraw themselves from the studio, claiming they were already tired. Keeping others in wait is exceptionally unsettling. Yet, the more he rushes through his notes, the more the producer tells him to restart, and the longer they get hold back. 

The truth is, though. Dejun had already perfected his part on the third try. But he still remains oblivious to the mischief that is happening with the rest of the members behind the walls of the studio.

Finally, the producer taps the comms and signals him to wrap up. He folds his sheets back into his pocket, unsuspecting of the shuffling at the entrance. When he looks back out the glass, he is stunned to see the members walk back in, shielding the tiny Shotaro who is carrying a cheese frosted birthday cake. 

When Lucas claps his hand together, they all break into a choir of low and high pitched voices, echoing throughout the studio halls. “Happy birthday, Dejunnie~ Happy birthday to you~”

Dejun blinks and gapes at them as if trying to connect the dots. He glances at the clock only to realise the session had eaten up till midnight. Finally letting go of the pressure that built on his shoulders, he regains his senses before breaking out into a fit of laughter amidst the birthday song. He covers his face and shrieks into his palm, speechless from the touching sight. When Taeyong waves at him to come out, he scampers out of the glass door. 

To his surprise, Doyoung emerges from his crouching position behind Dejun and places a birthday hat on Dejun’s head with a wide grin. He turns his head sharply to the touch and melts when he meets with Doyoung’s soft eyes. Doyoung reaches out to adjust Dejun’s fringe, causing the rest to coo. When the latter steps aside, Dejun bashfully takes a step forward towards the cake, clasping his hand together and makes a wish. 

When he blows out the candles, they all chorus. 

_ “Happy Birthday, Xiaojun!”  _

He sits on the couch, finishing his slice of cake with the members surrounding him. While the rest share random anecdotes, he reflects on the past week, from the moment he found out about the unit. With this celebration, all his remaining apprehension has been washed away. Now, he feels at home. Everyone feels like family. Things change, and four days is sure hell enough time for rainbows to take over the dark clouds. It was only the first few minutes of the day, but Dejun can already tell that this is going to be one of his best birthdays.

When the sun peeks through the blinds of his room the next day, he jumps out of bed to get into the shower. He dresses up in a maroon shirt, white pants and a beige coat over. He stays rooted and stares at the mirror for a good minute, chanting  _ it’s not a date, it’s not a date _ . He pats his chest with a huff before finally leaving the room.

Dejun fidgets with his fingers while standing in the elevator, knowing that the moment it opens, Doyoung would be there. Wind stirs in his chest, causing him to go aflutter and his mind clouds with anticipation. He feels like a child again. He feels the same tremulous excitement as he did on his tenth birthday when he indulges himself into the world of his very first Harry Potter series. This time, entering a realm he has never before. 

Doyoung stands leaning against the wall right at the lobby entrance, focused on tapping his phone screen mindlessly. He is dressed simply in a white shirt and pants with a denim jacket draped over his forearm, one of the first few features Dejun had noticed about the latter the first time they met. 

“Hey,” Dejun calls out from behind, causing Doyoung to turn. “Thanks for yesterday.” 

Doyoung stands up straight and slides his phone into his pockets, chuckling. “Ah, we just wanted to give you a lil’ something. You seemed really stressed.”

“My stress does show quite obviously,” Dejun mumbles. “I get that a lot from my hyungs.”

As they walk out, Dejun easily flows the conversation, telling Doyoung about how he used to detest how easily his emotions are read. He shares his experience growing up as an extrovert surrounded by introverts, how at one point he began to think that the way he expresses himself is wrong. At least, though, he got something out of it. He channels his emotions into reading, painting and photography. And while they were all painful memories, Dejun would never want to exchange it for anything else.

While Dejun speaks, Doyoung listens intently, uninterrupted even when Dejun slips out a word or two in Mandarin. Only when Dejun concludes, he resumes. “You believe that all bad experiences are meant for something?’

Dejun nods. “I do, and I believe that we all meet someone for a reason. Even if it is someone you help in the streets, they teach you something. No matter how minor or major it is.” 

“That’s a good mindset to have,” Doyoung nods in agreement, at awe at such a mindset. Then, he hums and asks out of genuine curiosity. “What did meeting me teach you?” 

_ You taught me how it’s like to feel in love again. _

“Hmm, guess we’d have to find out,” Dejun laughs, shrugging. “But without you, I wouldn’t have adjusted so quickly into the team. That’s one.” 

The second they step into the breakfast place, Dejun could already tell why Doyoung had been wanting to come here. The cafe is an embodiment of Doyoung himself. The sun-kissed auburn walls are decorated with little frames of different photographs of what seem like the countryside. Dejun drifts from frame to frame, admiring the way the photographs were taken of the same subject but from various vantage points. 

“You like them?” Doyoung asks as they take a seat, remembering that he enjoys photography. 

Dejun nods and points at the bigger frame that sits at the corner by the window. “Especially that one. I’ve always wanted to know how it’s like to live in the…” he trails off, not knowing the word for countryside in Korean.

“ _ Sigol, _ ” Doyoung continues for him. 

“Right,” he purses his lips embarrassed. “Yeah, the few times I experience it from visiting my relatives, I love it. The peace and nature.”

Dejun knows he can go on forever about how much he loves the countryside and all the different things he’d like to do if he had the chance to. But he doesn’t, because he doesn’t want to risk getting tongue tied again, not knowing the words he needed. 

“Nice shoes, by the way,” Dejun switches the topic, gesturing to Doyoung’s shoes. He had wanted to mention it earlier but it slipped his mind.

“Mm, it was a  _ hwangim-biyong, _ ” Doyoung snorts. The puzzled look on Dejun’s countenance makes the latter laugh. “Ah. You know when you… buy something really expensive on the... spot?” Doyoung tries his best to translate the term without other complexities. 

It takes a few before Dejun finally nods in understanding. 

When they fall into silence again, Dejun’s falter is noticeable, “Is it frustrating talking to me? I barely can keep up with the language sometimes.”

“Yah,” Doyoung huffs defensively as if honoring his own pride. “Your Korean is really good!” 

They order pancakes, Dejun selecting the green tea flavoured pancakes while Doyoung choosing mango. With Doyoung’s surprise of the latter’s selection of flavour, they realise that they don’t really know much about one another. 

As they eat, they share their favourite colour, favourite holiday, and their favourite things to eat. Amidst their conversations, Dejun also learns that Doyoung  _ adores  _ Jeno and Sicheng. Sure, Dejun sees Sicheng on most days ever since debut, but only now does he remember that there is way more to Sicheng’s life beyond WayV. Sicheng makes it so comfortable for all of them in the team that it slips his mind that he is far way senior than them. 

Doyoung narrates anecdotes of Sicheng from predebut up until the day he had to part from them to prepare for WayV. Knowing Sicheng as the independent, prim and proper elder brother in WayV, Dejun is surprised to hear how shy and pampered he is with the main team. Doyoung also tells him the struggles Sicheng used to have when he first joined the team, something Dejun never knew he had. Dejun realises now that Sicheng’s optimism and support masked all the struggles he had to be the brother they need. 

“You really love Sicheng, don’t you?”

“I do, with all my heart,” Doyoung’s grin reaches his eyes. 

It is the first time in ages that they simply enjoy a free hour, and Dejun is thankful for that. He sure is starting his birthday right.

As soon as Doyoung finishes the last sip of their drink, he pats his cheek with his sleeves. “Shall we head back now before someone reports a missing Xiaojun?” 

Their journey back to the company isn’t so long, considering it’s just around the corner. They don’t say much, though, apart from the endless complaints about how full they were and how much they should have shared a plate.

When their shoulders bump, Doyoung slips his fingers into Dejun’s hand. The sudden contact sends a tingling sensation up his nerves and his mind to scatters. He looks down at their hands, unaware of Doyoung’s hopeful gaze on him. In response, he intertwines their fingers together and keeps a tight hold. 

Dejun finally tears his eyes away from their hands and looks up at Doyoung. He almost misses the way Doyoung’s eyes flicker down to his lips. But he tells himself that he’s imagining things. That he’s just caught in the moment. After a few more moments of silence, Dejun clears his throat and starts talking about something else. 

They walk in the building, and as much as he wants to stay with Doyoung, Dejun is thankful they finally arrived. That gratefulness, though, does not stay for long. Approaching the lift lobby, Dejun immediately recognises the hyperactive playful figure. 

_ Fucking Liu Yangyang. Of all people.  _

Dejun turns his head back as if looking for a place to escape. But Doyoung is already ahead of him, and with their hands entwined, he has no choice but to follow. Though initially obscure from his vision, the explosion of English pouring from Yangyang’s  _ loud ass mouth _ is a sign that he is with Ten.

_ Damn it. _

When they emerge from sight, Doyoung and Dejun simultaneously slip their hands off each other’s. Yangyang leans in to whisper something to Ten which causes him to look back inquisitively. Dejun is a hundred and one percent sure of what Yangyang had said to Ten. To his surprise, Ten doesn’t burst out into laughter, unlike the way the other members did.

Instead, Ten launches himself forward to Doyoung, giving him a bear hug. “Long time no see!” 

“Hello, hyung,” Yangyang gives a light bow towards Doyoung along with his signature gummy smile. 

“Where did you go so early in the morning?” Ten asks purposefully, patting Doyoung’s shoulders. 

Dejun is panic stricken and has no idea who the question is directed to.

“Just thought I’d treat Dejun to a birthday breakfast, and you know, show him around,” Doyoung says waving his right hand in the air awkwardly. 

“Oh, right,” Ten blinks before turning to Dejun, switching to Mandarin. “Happy Birthday, Dejun! Why so shy?”

Through it all, Yangyang merely enjoys the sight of Dejun standing shyly, hands clasped on his front, picking at his sleeves. He has never seen Dejun so bashful before and Dejun just knows he is going to be the subject of mockery at dinner. 

A few heartbeats pass and Ten stares at Doyoung for a bit, expression unreadable yet enough to cause the latter to turn away. Neither Yangyang nor Dejun notices the tinge of scorn in the air between them.

“I’ll borrow Ten for a while,” Doyoung says before it turns any more silent, gesturing towards Dejun after. “I’ll see you soon?”

“See you at dinner, Dejun ah,” Ten offers a smile. 

Every birthday, the members would gather at a hotpot restaurant for celebration, regardless of which part of the world they are in. Most of the time, though, in China and in grandeur. It is a tradition they built amongst themselves. This time, they gather at the dorms for safety reasons. Sure, they are in the walls of their own home, but the atmosphere remains the same, boisterous, chaotic and comfortable. Birthday dinner with the WayV members is as grand as ever. 

Dejun does find it a waste that he is not in China, but at the same time, he finds it meaningful, spending his birthday in a new country. 

The members gather around the table while Sicheng and Kun lay the plates of meat slices, seafood and vegetables on the table. 

When Hendery comes to the table with a bottle of wine in hand, Kun shouts, “Hey, no wine! Yangyang is here.” 

“ _ Ge! _ I’m already legal!” Yangyang whines loudly, causing Lucas and Dejun to burst out laughing. 

“Ah, ah I forgot,” Kun scrunches his nose and turns on the fire for the pot.

“Happens when you’re still  _ such _ a baby,” Ten teases, sticking his tongue out.

Yangyang grabs the ladle and playfully hits Ten’s arm to which he lets out a cry.

“Liu Yangyang!” Sicheng grumbles, snatching the ladle from his hands. 

Kun nags for the next five minutes, about how they should stop murdering each other even before dinner has  _ barely _ started. 

The remaining time during dinner remains  _ relatively  _ peaceful, except for the spillage all over the table, Yangyang falling off the chair from laughing and the bowl that Lucas broke in attempts to reach for the meat that Hendery stole.

They miss each other. Everyone has been having separate schedules that they barely have the opportunity to gather around like this. The teams have been friendly and welcoming for everyone, but nothing beats  _ home _ where everyone can just be their true selves. 

Yangyang is the most excited about his new best friend, Donghyuck. Dejun does notice that they spend a significant amount of time together and more often than not, he is always staying over at the Dream dorm with his ‘ _ 00z _ ’. As if in a competition, Hendery starts to brag about  _ his  _ own new best friend, Johnny and how they would go out to eat and drink, and that Yangyang and Donghyuck are just children. 

The corners of Yangyang’s lips downturns into a pout, causing Lucas to speak up. “Ey, Hendery, don’t disturb the poor kid.” 

Hendery mimics the zipping of his lips, and the rest chorus in laughter. 

Yangyang, Hendery and Xiaojun help clean up the table while the rest move to the living room with their glass of wine. 

When the younger members finally join them at the couch, they sit reminiscing their times as trainees. They all share their doubts and concerns, past conflicts that they used to have. They were in their honest mode so. 

They talked about the one day in the middle of Love Talk promotions and the members got into a big fight and a few left. What had happened that day is a blur to most of them, having putting it past themselves. One of the main things Dejun knows is Lucas, Hendery and Yangyang leaving the dorm that night. He recalls how Lucas and Hendery left but he does not remember when Yangyang left or why he never came back. 

“Actually why did Yangyang leave that night?” Dejun questions, recalling that Yangyang was one of them to have left. But it didn’t click since their conflicts were amongst the 99z. 

Everyone froze. 

“Yangyang?” Ten asks to fill in the silence. “Did he leave?”

“I—” Yangyang starts, but doesn’t know how to continue.

They exchange glances unsure of who should fill up the gaps. Everyone knew why he left, except Dejun. 

“He wasn’t feeling well,” Kun speaks up. It wasn’t the truth, but they had to protect Yangyang at this point. It is not that they didn’t want Dejun to know, but they didn’t want Yangyang to share something against his will.

Dejun, oblivious to the cover, merely nods and changes the topic. 

Before the clock strikes midnight, the members wish Dejun a happy birthday once again. 

“Yangyang-ah, bedtime,” Kun calls out, gesturing to the rooms.

He pouts for a bit before downing the rest of his drink, smiling afterwards. “Fine, goodnight!” 

Dejun gets up a while after grabbing Yangyang’s glass along with his, heading towards the kitchen. “I’m going to bed too, filming tomorrow morning.” 

“Goodnight!” the rest chorused before resuming their conversation.

Dejun walks into the room after clearing the remaining dishes in the kitchen. Just as he opens the door, he catches sight of Yangyang huddled at the corner of his bed, facing the wall. Sharing a bedroom with Yangyang, he is no stranger to his habits. He often faces the wall when he breaks down, a habit he apparently has since he was young.

Dejun stands at the threshold of the door, unsure if he should interrupt. Watching Yangyang’s frame tremble, he feels his heart wrench. They may share a room but mostly, Dejun never knows the reason behind his breakdowns. There are times that Dejun would wake up to the latter’s sobbing underneath the blankets, or falling asleep against the wall with a tear stained countenance. In the day, Yangyang shines as bright as the sun does, but when the sun goes to hiding, he drops the masquerade and reverts to the loneliness of the moon. 

Inhaling sharply, Dejun decides he should return to the boys. As much as he wants to help, he wants Yangyang to have his alone time, a desire he is not a stranger to.

But just as he is about to shut the door, someone else holds onto Dejun’s wrist.

“Talk to him,” Ten whispers when Dejun turns, nodding towards the room. 

Dejun chews on his inner cheek before stepping back into the room. He closes the door lightly yet loud enough for the latter to know of his presence. He then drags his feet towards the edge of Yangyang’s bed and settles down. 

Wordlessly, Dejun wraps an arm around Yangyang’s waist and pulls him closer. Dejun presses a gentle comforting peck on Yangyang’s forehead before tightening his arms around the latter. 

“ _ Ge, _ ” Yangyang chokes out in attempts to explain. 

“Hush, it’s okay. Let’s sleep,” Dejun suggests.

Yangyang, keeping his curled up posture, shifts to give more space. Dejun lies his head on the pillow and scoops Yangyang in his arms. Yangyang buries his face in Dejun’s shoulder, resting his balled fist on his chest. Dejun keeps a tight hold around the younger till the morning comes. 

The last day of their music video filming for Make a Wish drags on till late evening. It had been a long arduous journey for Dejun. Ever since their preparation started, he feels the pace difference between what he is used to in WayV where everything is kept simple and straightforward. Preparation in Korea under SM directly has so many differences, and on a way larger scale than what he is used to. Gradually, he feels the exhaustion and fatigue seeping in. He is thankful that the tough and stressful parts are over for now. All that he has left to worry for is his debut stage officially as NCT. 

The night they wrap up the last filming, Dejun decides to go to his cafe after a long while. He showers and changes out to the most comfortable clothes. He grabs his book and leaves the house when everyone seems to be asleep. More often than not, he’d peek into the rooms every time he’s home, but this time, he just feels like he wants to be alone. So the only person he checks on is his roommate, Yangyang, only to see him fast asleep. 

When he enters the cafe, he is greeted by a figure sitting near the window, opposite his usual seat. He approaches closer and when his eyes meet with Doyoung’s he blinks.

“You know this cafe?” Dejun blurts out in amusement without thought. 

_ Of course. It’s right beside their dorms.  _

“Yeah--” 

“Oh, you two already know each other?” the barista asks as she approaches Doyoung with his drink. “I thought the other day you guys didn’t know each other so I--” 

Doyoung widens his eyes and clears his throat, making a face to signal the barista to leave.

Sighing in relief, Doyoung sits up straight and offers the seat opposite him for Dejun. Doyoung glances at the book in his hand. While the title is in chinese, he recognises the book from its illustration: a silhouette of a boy running, a string attached to a kite in the sky. 

“The Kite Runner?” he asks, more of a statement than a question. 

Dejun hums in response before placing the book on his lap instead. He is never one to share the books he read with others, it makes him feel bare. It feels as if they can read his mind and dig up the crevices of his soul. 

_ “People who read are hiders. They hide who they are. People who hide don't always like who they are.” _

Noticing his hesitation, Doyoung changes the topic. 

“You haven’t come here in long,” Doyoung muses.

Dejun’s face twists quizzically, searching through the implications behind the statement. It is true. Ever since promotions started, Dejun’s mind is always preoccupied by something or another at night, making up part of why he has not been coming down to the cafe at night.

“I see you a lot here, before. I did think you were that WayV member but I didn’t really know for sure, since I haven’t personally met you,” Doyoung offers. “I would’ve come up to you long ago if I knew.” 

Dejun’s cheeks heat up at his confession. He recalls at the surface of his memory, when someone entered the cafe in the middle of the night. Realising that it was none other than Doyoung, he chuckles. 

“Ah, that was you? You were somehow covered so I couldn’t recognise you either. I did think you were  _ familiar _ , though.” 

_ Beautiful, _ Dejun corrects himself in his head. 

The walk back home is comfortable, as it always is when Dejun is with Doyoung. They interlace their fingers and Doyoung listens to the latter talking about how his day went. Remaining close to one another, Dejun often steals glances of the boy beside him.

With fringe resting on his eyelids and cherry lips parted in speech, Doyoung looks far more ethereal under the luminous sky. Dejun no longer sees the facade of the lush and lustre he first landed his eyes on. Instead, he sees the soft and satin imperfections that reflect the gleam of the moonlight. Dejun also decides that Doyoung’s airy yet soulful laughter is the melody he has been searching for in his poetry. 

Dejun breaks out of his reverie when they arrive at the dorm building. While waiting for the elevator at the lobby, Doyoung steps ahead to face Dejun. 

“Thank you for today too,” Dejun whispers.

“Thank you, too,” Doyoung smiles in return. 

Doyoung traces every line of Dejun’s features, from the edges of his deep yet tired eyes obscured by his lashes, down to his rosy piquant lips, slightly dried by the cooling breeze of the night. They contrast the vivacious makeup that is always on Dejun. In camera presence, his features always looked sharp, distinct and fierce. Only now in the dim-lit midnight, does Doyoung notice how truly soft they are. 

Dejun flickers his eyes up to match his, shocking up an electrifying urge in Doyoung to plaster himself onto the latter’s body. His chest rises from anticipation as he takes another step closer. Without further hesitation, Doyoung rests his fingers delicately on Dejun’s cheeks and dips his head to press their lips together. Dejun nervously rests his wrists on his waist, unsure. The kiss starts slow and timid but when Doyoung’s grip on his jaw secures, Dejun loops his arms around his waist and tugs himself dangerously closer. 

Doyoung tilts his head and swipes his tongue across Dejun’s lower lips, urging him to part them. The kiss is silk that grazes repetitively to spike heat up their bodies. Their body tenses in the mix of tension and anticipation, both afraid of someone walking in on them, but not wanting to let go. 

When the elevator arrives, they don’t pull away. Dejun takes a step backward to enter and Doyoung chases his lips, walking him in without breaking the kiss. He presses Dejun’s back against the cold metallic wall and deepens the kiss, knowing they are all alone. They remain lost in the mirage, forget to press their respective floors for a while.

Only when the lights in the elevator threaten to turn off, Doyoung blindly reaches out to press the level of their dorms. He pulls away carefully, and hesitantly. They lock eyes for what felt like an eternity before Dejun breaks the silence by exhaling a breath he had been holding.

“I’ll… see you tomorrow?” Doyoung clears his throat, followed by a soft smile, a dimple forming on his smile line. 

“Yeah, see you tomorrow,” Dejun breathes, clutching the book in his hand. 

Dejun stands rooted to the ground, facing the grey doors of the dorm in attempts to calm from his euphoria. He bites down his lips hard to hide his smile as he unlocks the door and enters the house. The whole dorm is mostly dark except for the light illumination from the kitchen. 

He inhales deep to keep his composure before walking to the kitchen. He peeks behind the fridge to see Kun rearranging the newly bought cartons of milk. 

Kun glances at the wall clock and raises a brow, surprised by Dejun’s late return. “Did schedules drag on?”

Dejun shakes his head and waves his book in the air as if self-explanatory. He shuffles further in and pulls out the high chair to settle down, resting his book in his lap while watching Kun resume his chores. His heart is still palpitating from what just happened a few moments ago.

After a long silence of hesitation, Dejun starts. “What do you think of Doyoung hyung?”

Kun freezes. He stares at the cartons he had just arranged into a row in the fridge, labelled with each of the member’s names as if searching for an impression. Instead, he asks in return, “Why? Have you been close to Doyoung hyung recently?” Kun knows, though. He knows from the audible whispers that go on in the dorms amplified by Yangyang’s endless rambles. 

_ “Ge, have you seen them together? The other day Doyoung hyung brought him out for breakfast and they came back holding hands. They’re so cute!” _

If Dejun listens closely to the silence that hangs in the air, he would recognise it: the same silence Ten gave when he first catches them together. But Dejun’s head and heart is soaring too high up in the clouds that all his hyungs’ hesitations go unnoticed. 

“I, uh, it’s just that I bumped into Doyoung hyung at the cafe. So I was just wonder--”

“You were  _ just wondering?  _ You can’t exactly lie, Dejun,” Kun cuts him off. Dejun feels all the fluttering in his heart die from the sharpness of Kun’s voice. 

“You know?” Dejun murmurs quietly.

Kun hums and nods towards the rooms. 

“Ah, Liu Yangyang,” he mumbles under his breath.

“Doyoung’s a good  _ friend _ to have,” Kun offers and Dejun almost misses the implications. A few other utterances die at the tip of Kun’s tongue, before he finally says, “Just be careful, Dejun-ah.” 

Dejun studies Kun’s expression. But as it often is, unreadable.

Dejun lies in bed staring at the ceiling, replaying the scene in his head over and over. He reads a dozen romance novels about how people find love in the most unexpected places. Yet he is a cynic. He never believes the things he read. They are all novels for a reason, he knows. 

Today, though, proves otherwise. He starts searching through his mind for a novel with a scene similar, one that could speak for the indescribable emotions that bubble in his chest.  _ Pride and Prejudice, The Time Traveller’s Wife, The Great Gatsby, Romeo and Juliet.  _

No, he decides. 

None of them can compare to the exhilaration he feels at this moment. He’s a foreigner to feeling such ecstasy at the proximity of a face he admires. Most importantly, he has never felt so in love before. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> after pasting it in i wondered if i should have split the chapter somewhere else but well, what's done's done. 
> 
> stay tuned for the next!
> 
> also feel free for you to comment any suggestions, guesses or anticipations!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there is smut towards the end of the chapter,  
> honestly not that well written bc mood where  
> smut marked by [ // ]  
> it’s totally ok to skip it! 
> 
> i just realised that throughout the fic, i've referred two not just The Kite Runner but also several quotes and inspirations from Call Me By Your Name.
> 
> i finalised this in the middle of 1a.m, so i didn't get to proof read As much. will read it again once after!

As soon as the choreographer calls for a five minute break, the boys sprawl all over the floor of the dance studio, chest rising and falling from the strenuous practice they had. It is their last practice with the choreographer for Nectar before they’re left all alone to add in their ad libs and rehearse. Spending many days without the full squad, the boys missed one another. And each time they gather for Nectar preparations, they indulge themselves in the comfort of family. 

While it is true that they have gotten comfortable with the rest of the members, it is inevitable that they had their guard up to a certain extent. They are often extra careful of their words and actions, and how they react to things. It was both individual and cultural differences. At the end of the day, nothing beats just being together, the seven of them. 

Yangyang rolls towards Dejun and drapes himself over his legs, earning a yell.

“Yangyang, get off, you’re all sweaty!”

“But I want a pillow,” Yangyang whines, looping his arms around one of Dejun’s thighs. 

Dejun sits up and grapples onto Yangyang’s shoulders in an attempt to push him off towards the opposite direction. “Get lost! Go hug Ten!” 

Ten’s eyes widen in disbelief and he scoffs. “Ew, no Liu Yangyang get away!” 

Yangyang shakes his head and nuzzles his face against his knee.

“You’re so disgusting I sw…” Dejun trails off when his phone lights up beside him.

Ten turns his head out of habit, but catches only a glimpse of his lockscreen before Dejun reaches out for it faster than lightning. Though the double notification shrouds their faces on the screen, the bright yellow strands complimenting the mystic ash purple peeking out from the borders leaves Ten with only one answer. 

Unmistakably, a selca of him with Doyoung. 

Doyoung hyung  
 _Meet me at the cafe tonight again? [5.32 pm]_

Dejun grins and replies almost instantly. 

When Yangyang sees the latter smiling, he leans in and whispers, “Is that Doyoung hyung?” 

With his voice loud enough for the rest to hear, Ten and Kun exchange glances. Dejun nudges Yangyang away, eyes remain glued to the screen. Yangyang does not stop pestering Dejun, trying all his might to peek at their conversation, asking what he had said and teasing him with jokes the rest would not want to concern themselves with. As Yangyang bursts out laughing at the sticker Dejun had sent, Dejun kicks his shin hard.

Kun hushes them both with a glare. “Are you guys here to work or play?” 

“Five minutes break over Yangyang,” Ten hisses in English. “Get back to practice.” 

Dejun subconsciously rolls his eyes before getting back up on his feet, returning to his original position in the choreography. Rather than annoyance, he feels like everyone is against him recently. Still, he doesn’t think much of it and brushes it off everytime the feeling creeps up onto his mind. 

That night, Dejun deliberates if he should bring his book or leave empty handed. He does doubt he would end up even reading. Deep down, he knows that all he wants to do is hang out with Doyoung and talk. So, he ends up leaving his book by the bedside table, slips on his white hoodie, stuffs his hands into his pockets and leaves the house while most of the others are in Hendery’s room gaming.

When he arrives at the cafe, he doesn’t see Doyoung at their usual seat. He furrows his brows and scans across the cafe. It takes a while scanning the area before his eyes finally land on Doyoung who is leaning back against the sofa seat at the corner of the cafe. Dejun’s eyes linger a little at the figure who has fallen asleep with two drinks in front of him. In the least weird way possible, Dejun loves watching people sleep. He believes that in such moments of vulnerability, it reveals a lot about a person: their personality, insecurities, and innermost desires. 

Yet, he also feels intrusive, like he is stepping into the restricted realms of personal subconscious. So he clears his throat as he approaches the sleeping figure. Doyoung, sensing the presence, slowly cracks his eyes open. 

Dejun offers a smile, gesturing towards the drinks. “You know my usual?”

“It’s not that tough to figure,” Doyoung chuckles groggily, gesturing towards the barista and then patting the space beside him. “Hazelnut macchiato, double shot, and two pumps of caramel.”

Dejun rolls his eyes playfully before settling down on the space beside him. Doyoung slings his arm around Dejun’s waist and rests his head on his shoulder with eyes closed. Sleep pools his features, stripping off the embellishments of his wake. Dejun marvels at the porcelain cheeks and cushioned lips, leaving his mind whirling like a carousel lit up in the dark night.

He has never been a fan of the boisterous clamour, dizzying movements and blazing lights of carnivals. But Doyoung holds the power to transform that cacophonic image into majesty. Now, he sees the gleaming lights of every towering structure, forming its own milky way, illuminating the velvet darkness. The orchestra of musicality and laughter composing a symphony of Dejun’s life soundtrack of being in love with the one and only Kim Doyoung. 

Pulling Doyoung closer to him, he strokes his forearm with his thumb, occasionally tracing the protruding veins he noticed from the day he meets him. 

“If you were tired, you should’ve stayed home to rest, hyung,” Dejun whispers fondly.

Doyoung shakes his head.

“Why? Let’s get you home?” he tries again, patting his arm, urging him to arise.

“Jaehyun’s home,” he slurs, half-asleep. “I just want to be with you.”

_Jaehyun?_

The lights from the carousel blacks out as Dejun remembers his first meeting with Doyoung. Behind every exquisite beauty lies a brace. Indeed, he remembers Jaehyun’s arm that secures around Doyoung’s waist as if it belongs there. His mind floods with the austerity of Jaehyun’s mannerisms and how they complement Doyoung’s glowing appearance. 

Dejun shakes the thought away, pulls up his hood and adjusts his fringe before slipping his fingers to intertwine with the latter’s. They snuggle in for more warmth. Knowing how worn out the other seemed to be from how slack his limbs are, he doesn’t wake him up. 

The thoughts creep back every few minutes. For a brief flash of a moment, he remembers Kun’s advice. Yet, before they turn into a thunderous loud siren, Dejun chucks the memory deep into his mind. 

A few hours pass, and Dejun has only been seated unmoving in his place, save for the gentle strokes at the back of Doyoung’s palm. 

It strikes three when Doyoung awakes, realising that he had fallen asleep on the younger. “Dejun-ah,” he groans, lifting his free hand up to rub his eyes. “Sorry I called you out then fell asleep.” 

Dejun shakes his head and then lands a soft gaze down at Doyoung. The closest he has ever seen Doyoung all fatigued like this is when they first officially met in the recording studio. They lock eyes, and their surroundings fade to a gaussian blur. Dejun wonders in a moment how lucky he has been ever since. He has been happier, undoubtedly; and it shows. It shows in the allure in his fashion, luster in his smile and flare in his recent performances. Doyoung’s advent in his life caused an upheaval in his confidence and happiness. 

Doyoung’s gaze penetrates his very own, and he knows that he can see deep into it. Dejun wants to pull away, threatened by the feeling of being so naked and bare. But Doyoung’s eyes dilate and darken the longer they hold each other captive, and accompanied by his palpitations accelerating, he sees no way out. 

Doyoung reaches to card his fingers through Dejun’s faded locks, eyes unwavering. In a second of regained will, he leans up to capture Dejun’s lips in his. Doyoung moves his lips slow, savouring every gap. The sleepiness from earlier dissipates, and it is replaced by immense heat. Suddenly the hoodie Dejun is wearing is so thick he wishes to take it off. More so, by Doyoung. 

He glances towards the counter, ensuring the barista is out of sight. With that, Doyoung smirks and holds onto the side of Dejun’s hips, pulling him up to his lap. Willingly, Dejun rests both palms on his chest and rises to straddle Doyoung’s lap. His jerky movement causes Doyoung to suppress a wince. Doyoung slides his fingers past Dejun’s hood, pulling them down only to tangle his fingers in the soft locks of his hair. The yellow dye has faded off leaving only his permed curls behind. 

He inhales a whiff of Doyoung’s scent. The mix with the remnants of the nutty taste of his lips intoxicates him. Dejun builds an altar in his mind and a shrine to worship the insobriety Doyoung brings. He loses sense of time and self as their souls kiss. 

Doyoung permits the latter to slide his tongue past his lips, and he explores every possible reach. All of a sudden, Dejun tastes unfamiliarity. Herbal, cinnamon, bitter. Though it temporarily snaps Dejun out of his trance, the cold touches of the tips of Doyoung’s fingers on his skin rids him off the thought in an instant. 

Doyoung takes advantage of that second of falter to fight for dominance. 

“Hyung,” he whines as soon as Doyoung’s tongue touches the roof of his cavern. 

He feels a rush of helplessness as his skin burns to the latter’s touch. When Doyoung thumbs his buds, Dejun yelps, only driving Doyoung into ecstasy. 

Dejun reaches for Doyoung’s collar and tugs them downwards, leaning in to latch his lips onto his skin. Doyoung grabs onto his wrist, ensuing an icy cold voice. “No, don’t.” 

As Dejun flutters his eyes open and pulls away, he catches a glimpse of his slightly exposed collarbone. _Red._

“Not here,” Doyoung softens his tone once again. 

The two catch their breath, and Dejun attempts to calm the tremor in his chest. Giddy, he sees nothing but the stars from Doyoung’s intoxicating scent.

Dejun scans the cafe to ensure no one else is around before settling back on the couch, heaving a sigh of relief. “Hyung, it’s dangerous here.” 

“I know,” he smiles slightly, reaching for Dejun’s hands and intertwining their fingers together. 

They remain in that position a little longer, allowing comfortable silence to take over. 

Dejun does a double take at his phone when a notification arrives, realising that it is already 5am. He widens his eyes at the message, muscles stiffening from panic. 

Yangyang

_Where are you? [1.39am]_

_Come home now [2.25am]_

_Kun-ge is asking you to come home. [2.26am]_

_Are you at the cafe? [3.10am]_

Kun

_Door’s locked. [5.01am]_

_Fuck._

Dejun jumps up on his feet immediately and tells Doyoung that he’ll leave first. Though Doyoung offers to walk him back, he rejects and explains that he has to rush home. 

Dejun punches the passcode to the house and grumbles when it won’t work. _He changed it._ He grows increasingly apprehensive as Kun rejects his calls multiple times. 

When Kun finally opens the door, Dejun purses his lips, unsure on what to say. Kun’s fingers curl tightly around the doorknob before stepping aside to let him in. As he enters, he catches Yangyang peeking at the back from the room for a brief second before disappearing. Kun closes the door with slight force, causing Dejun to flinch.

“Dejun, it’s dangerous,” Kun hisses, folding his arms across his chest soon after shutting the door. 

“I was at the cafe--” 

“Eating him up?” Kun glares, his attempts to hold in his anger clearly visible. 

“No, I-- Did you--” 

“I don’t know what he’s doing with you, but you need to stop meeting him like this. Besides the fact that it’s _fucking_ dangerous because you can get caught, you’re in for deep shit.”

“I am not,” Dejun retaliates in confusion, unsure where all Kun’s anger had arisen from. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Dejun, you don’t know him.”

“I do!” Dejun weakly defends. 

“Do you know Jaehyun then?!” Kun raises his voice, staring straight at Dejun, boring holes into his eyes.

Then it clicks. 

_The arms around Doyoung._

_The bitter taste of cigarettes._

_The purple red on his collarbone._

_His exhaustion._

Dejun is frozen in his place, but his heart turns into a furnace of hurt. Tears course down the meanders of his cheeks as his head tangles into a turmoil. He doesn’t realise he’s crying until he hears Yangyang’s meek whisper from reemerging behind, “ _Stop--_ ” 

“Liu Yangyang,” Kun warns, glancing over his shoulder. Yangyang grips onto the door frame. He doesn’t want to get involved, but he does not want them to break out into a fight either; worse, seeing Dejun in that state stirs a wave of unease in his gut. But his presence doesn’t stop Kun from relenting. 

“Dejun, You’ve only been in Korea for so long. You don’t know _shit_.”

Kun storms off, leaving Dejun rooted to his position. He wipes his eyes frustratedly. Deep down, if he admits to himself, he knows that in the core of Kun’s spite is truth. Truth that he has been turning a blind eye to. 

Dejun sits in his room for the rest of the morning, hugging his knees close with his chin resting on them. He remains in the pit of confusion. Across his bed, Yangyang doesn’t sleep either. He watches Dejun and utters scattered apologies. 

Dejun finally snaps out of his memory when he finally realises Yangyang is apologising for the dozenth time. 

“Why are you apologising?” Dejun chuckles weakly, looking ahead at Yangyang.

“I didn’t know telling Kun--” 

“Hush,” Dejun gets up from his bed and settles himself beside Yangyang. He wraps his arms around the younger and pats his cheeks. “Go to sleep, you haven’t gotten a wink.” 

Finally, in the comfort of both the brothers, they fall asleep easily. Sure, they bicker and banter incessantly, but ultimately, they are always there for one another. Dejun doesn’t see his life without Yangyang. They were their pillars of strength and support in the shadows. 

When it strikes 8am, Kun carefully opens the door. His heart squeezes at the sight of Dejun and Yangyang cuddled up, for a moment deliberating if he should really wake Dejun up for schedules. He feels guilty, that’s a given. He is aware that Dejun has little to no idea why he had been so angered by the idea of them together. Truth is, he doesn't want Dejun to know. All Kun wants to do is to protect him. 

“Xiao Dejun,” Kun knocks after a minute passes. “Get up, schedule in an hour.” 

Dejun groans, eyes puffed up from the night before and head hurting from the minimal hour of sleep. He carefully lays Yangyang’s head on the pillow, careful not to wake him up. He grabs his phone and scrolls through the dozen of messages, one of which includes: 

Doyoung hyung 

_Hope you got home safely. [5.45am]_ _  
_ _Lunch after pre-recording? [7.34a.m]_

During pre-recording, Dejun switches off. Save for the minor mistakes in the formation, he manages to ignore his headache, dedicating his thoughts mainly to the stage. It is when pre-recording ends that the weight boulders on him again. 

Instead of lunch, Dejun requests for dessert with a walk in the park. In the beginning, they talk about mundane things, about their day and the recording session they just had. But mundane is never the core of their conversations. Throughout, it is quite apparent that Dejun had something else swimming in his mind. Doyoung notices this, yet he doesn’t question until they are alone.

“You alright?” Doyoung finally asks, touching his arm. 

“My head just hurts.”

Doyoung stops in his tracks and brings his fingers to Dejun’s temples, pressing onto it lightly. In concern and hopes for relief, he watches Dejun’s expression shift to relaxation. “Mm, hope you feel better.” 

Dejun leans into his warmth and briefly rests his head on his shoulders before straightening his back again. He glances around to see if there is anyone nearby. 

“Hyung, tell me about Jaehyun hyung,” Dejun asks carefully.

“Ah, Jaehyun?” Doyoung pauses, searching for words. 

“Only if it’s okay, for me to know.”

“I mean, yeah, you should,” he says as he continues to search for the right words. “We go kinda way back. To say it simply, we’re… a little more than just friends. It’s been years.” 

“Is that why you had that on your shoulder?” Dejun gestures to where he last saw a mark.

“Dejun, that’s--”

“I’m not mad,” Dejun explains, not wanting to assume anything about their relationship either.

“Kun?”

He searches Doyoung’s eyes for a bit as if searching for an explanation for the guess thrown before nodding slowly. He doesn’t know how Doyoung knows but he is thankful that he doesn’t need to go through the difficulty of bringing it up on his own. 

“I’d guess. Well, there is a lot that happened between us 96 liners,” he starts casually, gesturing over to the bench a few metres away from them. 

“That explains why he was so…”

“Enraged when he found out?” 

Dejun nods. 

“Yeah, I know Kun too. He gets that way when he’s protecting someone,” he elaborates vaguely, easing into the topic. Dejun doesn’t say much; rather, he waits for the latter to gather his thoughts as they finally come to a rest at the bench. “During SM Rookies, Jaemin, um, had this sort of crush on Jaehyun? It was nothing much really, he was still a teen, you know? We didn’t think much of it either. I mean, we were all still really young. But one day at the studio after Bassbot practice, he caught us...” Doyoung pauses, seeming not to want to put a word to it. “...flirting.”

He falls into yet another moment of silence. To show his understanding, Dejun rests his palm on his arm, urging him on. 

“Jaemin fled after. Kun found him somehow and told us about it. It was pretty damaging for Jaemin. It was to the point he was going to call quits, but they placed him in a different team so we haven’t met so much ever since.”

“Until Make a Wish?” Dejun raises a brow, in disbelief that they had been away for that long.

“Yeah, imagine how awkward it was at the start,” Doyoung huffs, feeling the weight of the truth lifted off his shoulders. “And well, at that time, Kun was with Jaemin through it all. So, don’t misunderstand him. He probably just... doesn’t want the same thing to happen to you, since he’s already seen how it was. I don’t blame him.”

Silence settles between them. Neither of them move nor speak. 

“Will it?” he says almost an eternity later.

“I called quits with Jaehyun,” he says after a long silence, answering the invisible question hanging between them instead. “Admittedly, it’s a little tough because we’ve been in this for years. We’re like each other’s...”

“Bad habits?” Dejun volunteers after he trails off. Doyoung nods ever so slightly, contemplating his words again. 

“And you were right. That night? I was with Jaehyun before I met you. That’s why I was so exhausted.”

“Oh.” It’s all Dejun manages out. 

Dejun recalls the latter’s discomfort, hesitation and cold demeanour when he curled his fingers around the fabric of his shirt that night. His eyes cast down and he fidgets with the edge of his fingers. He doesn’t know what he had expected, or why he even had expected anything in the first place. It was obvious from the beginning that Doyoung was way out of his league, but he slithered into the chance that maybe it was something that had blossomed between them. 

“Yeah,” Doyoung says, snapping Dejun out of his thoughts. “I called it quits right afterwards, because it didn’t sit right with me. I mean, it isn’t right in the first place. For me to do that. I wanted to put a stop to whatever we were, I wanted to stop being treated like a...” he trails off, not seeming to want to put the right word to it. “That night, all I wanted was to be with you. I’m sorry, Dejun.”

“It’s fine, it passed,” Dejun mumbles and lets out a breath of slight relief. “Who else knows?”

_Everyone,_ Doyoung wants to say. “In your team?” Dejun nods. “Ten.” 

Right, the 96 liners. Something must’ve broken out between them. The bond the 96z used to have was ripped into shreds because of what happened. Pre-debut, the two were inseparable. When Ten and Kun were new to the company, Doyoung used to bring them down the streets of Apgujeong, exploring the area and getting them familiar with the everyday culture. 

“Ten was mad too, you know?” Doyoung reveals. “He probably doesn’t show it, as always. But the day at the lobby, do you remember? We talked.” 

_“What’s with you and Dejun?” Ten asks, brows furrowed, adopting a whole different tone from when Yangyang and Dejun were there. The tension evident between them._

_“I’m just getting to know him,” Doyoung responds, trying not to appear defensive._

_“You’re fucking Jaehyun.” he states as a fact._

_Doyoung flickers his eyes towards the door, to ensure no one was around. What Ten said may be true, but it still causes his blood to boil in anger, from the careless utterance out in public. But before he can retaliate, Ten is already spitting more venom._

_“Now you’re after Dejun too? Why? Did Jaehyun get boring?”_

_“Don’t make me sound like such a--”_

_“Slut?” Ten raises a brow._

_“Shut the fuck up.”_

_“Not until you man up and walk away from that toxic shit relationship you have with Jaehyun.”_

_“I am going to! I’m serious about Dejun.”_

_“You sure hell better be. Stay away.”_

_“Ten, I told you--”_

_“Don’t hurt him, Doyoung,” Ten hisses. “I know him, and I know you. So I’m making this clear. Don’t fucking hurt him. We might’ve let the thing with Jaemin happen, but not again.”_

_Doyoung stares at Ten, his chest rising and falling from the mix of anger and anxiety. The mention of Jaemin makes him feel a weird sense of discomfort in his gut again. They may be fine now and it might’ve been a really long time ago, but the guilt still remains. Jaemin used to be an important part of Doyoung’s life, and he really regarded Jaemin as the younger brother he always wished he had back then._

_With the silence that ensues, Ten knows the message is imprinted in Doyoung’s head._

_“Leave Jaehyun,” he warns again. “Or else you’re not landing another finger on Dejun.”_

_“I know.”_

Jung Jaehyun. As long as someone is in the realm of NCT, they would know about Doyoung and Jaehyun. No one is blind enough to not catch the way Jaehyun’s hands snake his arm around Doyoung’s waist or slips his fingers between Doyoung’s thighs in the middle of schedules. Sometimes they would stay behind to cuddle on the couch. 

What they share is beyond explanation. Or maybe, they just avoid them. 

Dejun never knew that Ten had been even more angered than Kun was. He does notice that each time Yangyang hints or jokes about them, Ten doesn’t laugh. Yet, Dejun would never have guessed that beneath that unreadable expression was anger.

“Does Jaehyun hyung know about us?” Dejun asks.

Doyoung hums in acknowledgement. “Mm, he does.”

“He’s not mad?”

“Why would he be? He doesn’t have feelings for me, Dejun-ah.”

“Do you?”

He shakes his head and turns to face the latter. “I don’t. I like you.”

Dejun studies Doyoung’s expression, searching for a hint of doubt. But all that he sees is Doyoung’s reassuring smile that whisks all of his worries away. He responds with his body instead, inching closer to Doyoung while wrapping his arms around his waist.

Tilting his head, Doyoung leans in to press their lips together. He lightly cups Dejun’s cheeks in his hands with a gentle stroke with his thumb. The kiss was unlike their first, sweet, innocent and sincere. It sure is a lot for Dejun to take in within a short time, but he trusts Doyoung. _It may be unfair, but what happens in a few days, sometimes even a single day, can change the course of a whole lifetime._ And he knows he wants Doyoung, more than he has ever wanted anyone before. So he free falls. 

Dejun pulls away slightly, and Doyoung presses a light peck on his lips before patting his thigh. 

“Let’s head back.”

The next time the team gathers for a schedule, Dejun finally senses the awkward air that hangs loosely around Jaemin. He learns what Doyoung meant. There are no meaningful glances between them. Dejun, being close to Renjun, is no stranger to the fact that they are currently dating. Still, the time spent apart did not heal Jaemin’s wounds. It still lingers from time to time. 

Dejun and Doyoung become progressively closer. Though for the first time in secret, Doyoung started to come over more and more often. Ever since Make a Wish promotions ended, Dejun spends more time at home with Doyoung, while Yangyang and Hendery spend most of their time out promoting 90s Love and Work It. 

The first few times Doyoung comes over, Dejun notices the constant glances from other members to their direction. Understanding that they are mostly out of concern, he doesn’t mind it too much. When the Doyoung interacts with Kun and Ten, the tension between them isn’t obvious. Yet unlike how he interacts with Ten, Doyoung manages to be more friendly with Kun, as if nothing had changed from before. 

Eventually, Kun lets them off the hook, he doesn’t probe or watch any longer. When comfort settles in the dorm, they become more at ease. They thrive, fearless and in love. Doyoung manages to ask Dejun out for a couple more dates. 

Doyoung desperately pleads Taeyong to suggest a restaurant _decent_ enough to bring Dejun to. And when Taeyong suggests him to bring Dejun to _Bicena,_ seated at the 81st floor of Signiel Seoul Hotel, Doyoung thinks his oldest brother has gone mad.

_“I mean you gotta impress him,” Taeyong shrugs._

_“Yes, I want to impress him, not scare him off!” Doyoung grumbles in retaliation._

_“It’s not going to scare him off, he’s blinded by…” Taeyong waves his hands all about, from Doyoung’s head to toe, earning him an eye roll._

_“God, fine, I’ll bring him there. But if he runs away, it’s your fault.”_

When Doyoung urges Dejun to dress smartly for dinner, he grows skeptical. Dejun insists on not bringing him to any fancy restaurant, but Doyoung assures him that the restaurant is decent and good. 

Yet, stepping into the large expanse of the 81st floor, facing the circular bar in the middle with glass casements of wine decorating the walls of the restaurant, Dejun learns that Doyoung is an obnoxious liar. 

They sit in a private dining room for two in the finest restaurant Dejun has ever seen. The skyline of the night can be seen through the surrounding glass in their room. Each skyscraper of Seoul sparkles like twinkling stars beneath them. Doyoung seems so satisfied with his plan that Dejun doesn’t dare tell Doyoung that it was too much. Sure, he had been to exceptional fine restaurants, but none of which at the level of this, _literally._

“I just wanted to make sure we won’t get interrupted,” Doyoung explains, while they settle themselves on the table with a dimly lit candle sitting in the middle, a chandelier hovering above them. 

He also introduces Dejun to his sanctuary. Doyoung seeks refuge in a lake at the corner of the city of Seoul. This time, he brings Dejun there, on the night of the transition of autumn to winter. They were far away from all the city lights and dazzle around them. Dejun likes it, the calm ripples of water with no interference with the dominating nature. He closes his eyes as they stroll into the dim night, feeling the freezing wind of winter brushing against his cheeks. On his skin, he feels the feverish sensation of being in love. 

With one hand secured in Doyoung’s warmth, Dejun walks with the other stuffed in his favourite chestnut brown coat. Considering they were walking late into the night, they remain silent throughout most of the journey. For the most part, Dejun admires the halo around the moon and the stars twinkling above their heads, inhaling the woodsy and heavy scent of winter jasmines and nectar. He hums to a little tune elated by Doyoung’s gentle squeezes on his hand.

When the moon gets obscured by the canopy of a gigantic tree, Dejun turns his head to face Doyoung, only to see him chewing on his lower lip. Dejun observes as Doyoung shifts from his inattentive to his unsettled eyes. It is apparent that something is on Doyoung’s mind, and Dejun is unsure if he should be asking. 

Doyoung is talented. He knows how to work and seduce the camera when he needs to. But in front of the love of his life, someone he wants for the rest of his life, he is talentless. Despite the cool front, tinges of his true nervousness seeps. Even more so today.

“Hyung, are you alright?” Dejun slips his fingers between Doyoung’s fidgety ones. 

“Be mine,” Doyoung whispers, stepping ahead of Dejun to stop him in his tracks. 

“Wait, what?” he widens his eyes, startled from the sudden proximity, unsure if he had heard right. 

“Be my boyfriend, Xiao Dejun,” he repeats, a little more confidently this time.

Dejun stares at Doyoung in a daze, not being able to believe his ears. Doyoung purses his lips, in fear of being rejected. Only then does it hit Dejun that he was being serious. He breaks out into a grin, which Doyoung finally relaxes to. 

“No,” Dejun licks his lower lip to hide his mischievous smirk and Doyoung’s face twists into disappointment. “Only because I can’t believe you beat me to it at saying this.” 

Doyoung lifts his head up again and when their eyes meet, they both break out into a harmonious laughter. “Yah, you scared me there!” he exclaims in an airy voice. Dejun grins like spring flowers that intrude the midst of autumn, the smile line that curves his cheeks decorate his features up to his eyes.

He raises his hands to trace his fingers down Doyoung’s jaw, whispering softly after. “All yours.” 

\--

At the rate that the two are going, they see each other more than they see their own dorm mates. More than that, Doyoung is seen amongst the WayV boys more than his own members. Words spread fast, and by the time they hit their second week of being together, everyone is already aware of their relationship. 

_So much for keeping it down_. 

“Why are you taking so long in the shower!” Dejun shouts out from his room, gaining a whine of complaint in return instead. It was getting late and Dejun just wanted to cuddle in with Doyoung and call it a night. He is already winning his second PUBG game and Doyoung has yet to exit the shower. 

“I’m done, I’m done!” Doyoung grumbles, stepping back into the room with his shorts on and his towel draped over his shoulders. 

Dejun does a double take, his phone slipping off his grip, his character just dying hopelessly. Dejun’s eyes linger on Doyoung’s body.

Doyoung approaches, leans down to press a kiss onto his lips. Though Dejun chases his lips for a bit, he flinches slightly from the droplets that drip onto his clothed chest. He rests his palms on the latter’s shoulder blade and pushes him away, grumbling. “Go away you’re all wet! My bed!” 

“Your bed is _meant_ to be wet,” Doyoung smirks with a playful countenance. 

He pauses before the realisation hits, face contorting to disgust. “Shut up,” he hisses. 

Doyoung climbs onto bed and onto Dejun. He traps him between his legs with hips lifted. He reaches for the towel draped over his shoulders and dries his hair again. He tosses it aside once he’s done and glances down at Dejun who has his lips parted and eyes fixated on his disheveled hair. 

“What?” Doyoung raises a brow. 

Dejun traces Doyoung’s features, all that he fell for in front of his eyes, illuminated by the moonlight glow from the casement. The lines of his torso flows into a half shadow, almost concealing the hipline that fades past his waistband. He chews on his inner cheek as Doyoung’s perfectly sculpted abs tenses. His chest rises as he inhales deep in attempts to calm his erratic breaths. 

Doyoung shifts against Dejun to get into a more comfortable position, but as his thighs slide against his, Dejun whimpers beyond control.

“Please.”

[ // ]

Something sparks in Doyoung and he sucks in a breath, flickering his eyes back up to meet Dejun’s. This time, the brown softness of his eyes disappears into deep black orbs, and the sharp, depth of the gaze shoots straight to Doyoung’s groin. He belatedly realises that his whine, desperate and unsuppressed, is all he wants to hear. 

Doyoung rolls his hips, causing Dejun’s eyes to flutter shut and reach for the latter’s lithe waist, pressing his thumb against the soft skin. He edges closer and presses his lips onto Dejun’s, heated, open-mouthed and yearning. He cups his jaw, thumbs outlining the sharp edges as if tracing the erogenous spots he craves to mark.

Sported by a magnetic force, Dejun runs his warm fingers across the ice of Doyoung’s abs, each stroke increasingly titillating. Though vision obscure by his velvet curls, from the light grazes of his fingertips against the meanders of his skin, his body is everything Dejun had pictured to be. With his mind clouded by the lewd images, Doyoung takes the advantage to swipe his tongue across the latter’s lips, instantly gaining access to his warm cavern. 

“Hyung--” Dejun gasps as Doyoung palms his crotch, arching his body up to the touch. Doyoung learns that Dejun is far too sensitive, so he heightens his movements as he trails kisses to his jaw, and down to the base of his neck. Each kiss Doyoung leaves a trail of molten lava and burns his throat, and the air in his lungs boil in the oppressive heat. 

Doyoung takes his own sweet time to graze his teeth against his collarbone and leaves stains on red against his tanned skin. Dejun digs his nail into his skin, growing increasingly desperate with every bite.

“W-wait, I--” Dejun whines, breathy and high pitched, and grips onto Doyoung’s wrist to guide the latter’s fingers to his own shirt. Understanding, Doyoung peels the shirt off his body and Dejun sits up in assistance, finally free from the irksome material on his skin. Almost immediately after, Doyoung harshly pushes him back down onto the bed, and impatiently latches his lips onto his chest. 

With no second thoughts, Doyoung sucks onto Dejun’s delicate tanned skin, leaving another stream line of reddish marks, this time, down to his torso. 

Dejun is close to hyperventilation, he desperately reaches to grab onto Doyoung’s shorts for stability. Yet, with Doyoung’s movements, he finds himself tugging the last piece of his clothing downwards. Dejun eyes widens when he realises he is not wearing any underwear. 

Doyoung’s warm breath ghosts above Dejun’s waistband, causing the latter to wrap his legs around his waist. He pins his thighs back down onto the bed bites on his waistband, pulling them all the way down. 

He pulls Dejun’s pants off his feet and leaves open mouthed kisses up his thighs, licking a stripe across his hardened member and back up to his lips. 

“You’re so pretty,” Doyoung breathes, two fingers blindly searching for his entrance. 

Dejun’s cheeks flare up in red and his whole body swears into the heat. Ever since they got together, Doyoung never fails to shower Dejun with compliments. None of which, though, could be compared to the one that just rolls off Doyoung’s tongue. 

With just a few languid strokes past his rim, Dejun is already leaking. Doyoung spreads his two fingers, stirring a yelp past Dejun’s lips. It takes a mere few more begs for Doyoung to position himself at his entrance. He traces the tip over his rim, in impatient attempts in teasing him. Not long after, he pushes his member into his stretched muscle and Dejun’s tummy tightens at the intensity. 

Dejun wraps his legs around Doyoung’s waist, desperate for more. Doyoung pauses when he is buried deep into him, only moving his hips slightly in a slow grind. He patiently holds while Dejun gets used to his size. Only when Dejun nods slowly does he pull back only to thrust in once again.

Though Doyoung starts off in a slow pace, the continuous moan slipping past Dejun’s lips urges him to pick up his speed. Doyoung strokes his damp strands and whispers, “So fucking hot.” 

A strangled noise escapes when Doyoung hits onto his prostate. He wraps his fingers around Dejun’s member and strokes in the same pace as his thrusts. Dejun bucks his hips, tangles his fingers against Doyoung’s strands and tugs on it as he edges closer to his climax. 

Dejun arches his back against the mattress as pleasure pools in his stomach. His lips part to let out a scream as he climaxes. Doyoung is quick to press his palms against his mouth, muffling the sounds that escape. 

“Fuck,” Doyoung hisses when he feels Dejun’s warmth on his abs. 

Doyoung presses himself down against Dejun as he releases as well, their leaden breaths echoing across the room. He flutters his eyes open to gaze down at the latter all bottomed out. He exhales in contentment and offers gentle meek strokes down his cheeks. 

[ // ]

“I love you,” Dejun attempts to say in exhaustion, but no sound escapes. He thinks Doyoung misses it but he gives a comforting stroke along with a weak whisper in his ears.

Doyoung falls beside Dejun and ignoring the excruciating pain in his groin, Dejun turns to loop his arms around his waist. Burying his face in Doyoung’s bare chest, he lets out a soft whimper, this time one of a puppy. 

It doesn’t take long for the both of them to drift off to sleep.

Dejun awakes first in the morning, surprised to see a pair of arms still locked around his body. He feels safe, and he has never felt such in so long. 

As he slowly opens his eyes, he realises that though they’re under the covers, they're still bare bodied. He feels panic rise in his veins and perks up to glance over to Yangyang’s bed. Untouched. He doesn’t recall Yangyang coming home, nor does he know if anyone had checked in on them. _Did he not get home? Or he already left? Or did he sleep at someone else’s?_

Dejun glides off bed, leaving Doyoung still sound asleep, he puts on an oversized shirt and peeks out of the room. No one comes to sight. He looks at the clock at 10 a.m. The rest must've already left for schedules. 

“God,” a voice sounds from behind Dejun. 

Dejun turns sharply to the sound and grips onto the side of his shirt. Sicheng is standing there in Hendery’s white coat, face contorting into one of revulsion. 

“Geez do you reek of sex,” Sicheng scrunches his nose, walking past Dejun.

Dejun’s face burns, lost on what to say. “Um, I-- well, I--” 

Sicheng raises a palm and waves him off. “I don’t need to hear about my lil bro’s sex life with my favourtie older bro,” he pauses. “Oh my God. I phrased that bad. Now, I’m extra disg--” 

Dejun’s face falls. 

“No, I’m just, joking, by the way,” Sicheng walks up to Dejun, smacking his arm. “I’m off. I came back just to pick up something. I was supposed to return it to the stylist but I forgot again.” He waves his necklace in the air. 

“Sicheng-ah,” Dejun whispers as Sicheng heads to the door. “Was Yangyang home?” 

Sicheng halts at the door, unmoving for a little.

“He was at Dream’s,” Sicheng turns and offers him an assuring smile. He stares a little longer past Dejun’s shoulder and spreads his lips into a wider smile, one of greeting. He waves and nods towards the bedroom door. “See you later!” 

Dejun turns in confusion but relaxes to see Doyoung messy in yesterday’s clothes. He walks up to him and wraps his arms around his waist, leaning up to press a kiss on his lips. 

“Good morning, baby,” Doyoung greets. 

“Mm, g’morning,” Dejun beams and walks them back into the room. “Shower.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> also follow me on twitter, @TAEILKUN 
> 
> (also if noticed any errors feel free to dm me rip my soul)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in the first place, i did not expect this chapter to hit 10k words, neither did i initially plan for it to have this flow (or did i?) anyway, i feel like this chapter can stand on its own as a one shot, weirdly. 
> 
> enjoy!

Chaos picks up towards the end of the year when all the members are scheduled to promote as a whole. No matter how comfortable Dejun has grown with the rest of them, the idea of being in the same space as everyone concurrently is still daunting. As an extrovert, it is no doubt that Dejun enjoys being with people; nonetheless, as an empath who absorbs energy from others, to be surrounded with twenty two others just sounds like a recipe for a drained social battery. 

Towards the end of their break, rewarded after Make a Wish promotions, Dejun finds himself struggling to get his gears going again. Two weeks is comparatively long to the mere few days he used to be granted in his permanent unit. So after a whole fourteen days of laying in Doyoung’s warm embrace in the approach of winter, resuming the bustle of schedules isn’t exactly the easiest thing for him to do. 

To celebrate their last freedom before Resonance recording schedules commence, Doyoung spends the night in the WayV dorm, knowing that it will be tough to return for a while when promotions resume. They are highly aware of how hectic it will get once Resonance sets off, especially with the upcoming Loveholic Japan comeback with 127 and WayV’s comeback preparations. If Dejun and Doyoung are consciously afraid they may not have as much leisure time for each other, none of them speaks, remaining as a silent understanding between them. 

While Ten and Yangyang are out with some others, Dejun and Kun are preparing dinner in the kitchen. The rest, forbidden from the kitchen, gather in the living room alternating between hilarious anecdotes during promotions or discussing tomorrow’s schedules. Doyoung sits knee to knee beside Sicheng, with Hendery and Lucas on the ground. Having just received the cue sheets for the performance lineup and positioning from their manager, Hendery hands the printouts to Lucas to lead the discussion.

Lucas flips through the pages, uttering random observations. Though none of them truly wants to be talking about  _ work _ the night before it starts, they can’t help it. Resonance is something that everyone has been anticipating for a while now. Their biggest project as a team yet. 

“Woah, Xiaojun has got so many parts,” Lucas laughs in pride, turning his head to see if Dejun had heard him from the kitchen. When he doesn’t, Lucas scrunches his nose and waves the cue sheets in the air instead. 

  
  
  


Doyoung reaches out for the sheets, recalling the words their choreographer had promised, brows furrowed. Anxiously, he flips from page to page, realising that while the rest do get a fair chance, Dejun is indeed in the centre frontline majority of the song. And even if he isn’t, he’s in the front sidelines.

_ “Hyung, what if the rest doesn’t get to--”  _

_ “Doyoung-ah, I promise. Everyone’s going to get a chance in the centre.” _

Sicheng nudges Doyoung, breaking him out of his thoughts. He looks up to see Lucas, Sicheng and Hendery staring at him, as if waiting for a response. 

“Huh?” Doyoung manages out after a heartbeat. 

“I was saying, aren’t you proud of your boyfriend?” Sicheng chuckles, nodding his head towards Dejun who is in the kitchen. 

“Oh yeah, of course,” Doyoung offers a slight smile before handing the cue sheets back over to Lucas. 

Doyoung is indeed proud of Dejun, that’s for sure. But the little discomfort that seeps into his stomach scarily reminds him of the day 127’s debut was released. Doyoung is certainly one of confidence. He had the faith that he was going to debut in 127, or at least he had high hopes in, especially since 127 is planned to be SM’s main focus unit. Yet, when the management announced that he would be pulled out of the Firetruck debut, he realises that he has only been living in disillusionment, a mirage that was never meant to be his. 

It takes him a long while to drag himself out of the melancholy he drowned in. Only then, with his best friends so preoccupied with their debut, does he inject an extra mile of effort in his training. Building himself once again from the very foundations, excelling in his monthly evaluations, and finally, finally, debuting in the 127 team. He prides himself on his hard work and resilience.

_ He is not about to regress, no.  _

He doesn’t know why he feels that spark of pre-sentiment, but when Dejun returns from the kitchen and settles back beside him, slipping his fingers into his, he is at ease again. If Dejun notices Doyoung’s tensed muscles and apprehensive countenance, which he usually can sense a mile away, he doesn’t say anything. On most days, Doyoung is thankful for the fact that the latter just knows him so well, but on others, he wishes he doesn’t notice it too fast. 

With all twenty three unified, Doyoung resumes being the boys’ pillar of strength and Taeyong’s reliable cornerstone. The two best friends are inseparable; Dejun sees this even in their unit’s promotions. Yet in Resonance, assuming more responsibilities, they exude a whole different vibe. Doyoung is way beyond the lighthearted, loud and  _ ‘easily bullied’ _ hyung he usually is; instead, he transforms into a strict and level-headed brother that everyone can depend on. 

Of course, Dejun admires him for it.

Being in charge of twenty two others is no easy job. Qualms and mishaps are typical and bound to happen. This, though, Doyoung refuses to accept in his dictionary. As random misunderstandings and mistakes occur, he often blames himself more than those involved, for being so incompetent in preventing them from happening. He does get help from Kun, but unlike Kun who knows how to differentiate his fault and others, Doyoung often beats himself up too much when something goes wrong. 

In no time, Doyoung’s personal self-confidence plummets head first. 

When Taeyong’s back injury threatens to resurface, Doyoung is on edge. Apprehension became his long lost soulmate. Very often he is stuck in the dilemma; undoubtedly, he doesn’t want Taeyong to push himself too much, but at the same time, Doyoung is constantly in need of help. Doyoung’s increasing agitation and anxiety soon became apparent to anyone. He snaps at the slightest blunders and loses all trace of his smile along the way, especially when the cameras are off. 

Dejun knows that things have been hard for Doyoung ever since they all came together. He understands well that given all the turmoil, he naturally does not have as much time as he did before. He also understands that Doyoung needs time on his own to recharge for the physical and mental exhaustion from  _ everything _ . He understands all that, yet he can’t help to feel extra lonely on days when he’s home. And while he may deny the feelings that heralds, his members see them first.

Things start snowballing when Taeyong’s injury truly relapses. The day Taeyong returns to the dorm with an announcement that he isn’t allowed to perform anymore for the time being, Doyoung becomes unnecessarily bothered and offended. Taeyong used to tell Doyoung  _ everything _ beforehand, and they’d share even the slightest news together before revealing to the rest.  _ This is just not it,  _ he spites. He knows it is a petty thing to be upset about. 

Frustration builds in his chest each time Doyoung’s offer to accompany Taeyong to the hospital gets rejected by the managers. Deep down, Doyoung knows that he can never do so, given the importance of his role in the team, especially with Taeyong gone. Still, nothing stops his desperation of wanting to be there for his best friend.

_ “Grow up, Doyoung. It is not high school,” his manager chides. “You can’t just follow Taeyong everywhere he goes.”  _

There is some truth to it. Again, he recognises it, but it still causes bile to rise in his throat each time he has to face the truth. Now, with Taeyong pulled out from promotions, Doyoung’s heart and soul entirely switches off, becoming ultimately distant and unemotional. 

The one time Dejun actually catches Doyoung pouring his heart out in the back room, Dejun somehow feels a little relieved that he is still able to let his emotions out. He watches as Doyoung’s fingers clutches onto the gold  _ Clash de Cartier _ friendship ring he and Taeyong share. Wordlessly, Dejun wraps his arms around Doyoung and provides him with the comfort he needs. Dejun closes his eyes to stop the seismic tidal wave of emotions that begs to come out. The lack of reciprocation for the embrace stirs a whirl of worry, yet Dejun tries his best to keep Doyoung protected in his arms, as if finally recognising the anxiety of him leaving his arms altogether.

His instincts, proven right as it always does. The safe repose of his warmth doesn’t last long. When the announcement for their performance sounds, Doyoung presses a weak peck on Dejun’s head before leaving the room. The lack of his presence once again rouses an imminent blizzard in the dead of winter solstice.

Doyoung doesn’t realise it but save for their exchanges during performances, they haven’t had a proper conversation in a week. Dejun is indeed aware, yet he knows well more than to complain at such a time of adversity. 

Several times, Dejun attempts to slip in time between schedules to ask Doyoung out. But each instance he does, he is only welcomed by the ice cold winds of the latter’s rejection several hours later, or entirely forgets it until the next text arrives. The one time Doyoung accepts Dejun’s proposal, Dejun isn’t surprised that he ends up cancelling it all over.

In the end, Dejun is far too worried about his lover’s exhaustion and burnout to see the noxious effect on himself as well. 

Soon, activities and schedules piled up ceaselessly. The AAA and MAMA Awards performances pass smoothly for the most part, except for a few clashes at times from the lack of coordination or space onstage. 

Things started stirring up once more during their KBS performance. Considering the minor mistakes in the previous award shows, a few re-arrangements were being made to add extra flavour to their performance. With the short notice, it is no surprise that their pre-recording turns out to be a mess, with many members missing beats, wardrobe malfunctions and also microphone problems. While monitoring their pre-recording performance backstage, in the corner of the room is Doyoung, nervously biting on his fingernails. Though unspoken, everyone is aware that the man can’t help but to blame himself for the lack of coordination. 

The actual performance starts out better than the pre-recording did. The parts which certain members had slipped fall into place, and they manage to fix the wardrobe malfunctions without much issues. 

Unfortunately, though, the synchronisation of all calls for a mess of one. 

Right before Dejun’s solo mid-Resonance, he almost loses balance during his steps, causing his nerves to grow cold, feeling a prickly sensation underneath his skin. He has been on edge since the beginning of the performance and when his solo finally arrives, he ditches his plan of executing the floor work he had done during the MAMA Awards and ends up doing something entirely different. His own impromptu actions freezes him into place, yet he tries his entire being to remain cool. From his height, he senses a few stares at him from the ground, causing another acceleration of apprehension.

In transition to Doyoung’s part, he pivots to the right and clashes into Doyoung. Thankfully _ (or not) _ , Doyoung manages to raise his palm to push Dejun out of the way. Though light and harmless, the action causes his heart to constrict as he returns to his position. His chest rises and falls in nervousness from the invisible tension on the stage. 

At the end of the performance, they all scurry backstage. 

“ _ Dejun _ ,” Doyoung calls the moment they head back, shoving through the members ahead of him.

Dejun, covered in sweat and breaths still erratic from the dance and anxiety, turns in shock at the brutality of his tone. The way Doyoung spits his name triggers a catastrophic whirl of dread, panic and heartache in him. How can his name, uttered by the love of his life, sound so unfamiliar and malicious. His veins tighten under his skin and strangles every muscle of his body at an intense pace.

“Mm?” Dejun hums, trying to maintain his calm demeanour with the presence of other members.

“You were supposed to move left stage,” he starts, voice full of malice.

Dejun knows his mistakes, he recognises it well, and while guilt creeps up and he is ready to apologise, he doesn’t understand Doyoung’s reactions, atypical of how he usually is. Mistakes do happen on stage, a hell lot, in fact. Yet, Dejun thought he has at least made it as unnoticeable as possible.

“I know. I’m sorr--”

“If you know then why the hell?” Doyoung cuts him off, spitting venom. Some members turn at the alarming tone while most of the younger ones scamper off to the waiting room, not wanting to get involved.

“It was a mistake,” Dejun presses, his mind a turmoil of guilt, embarrassment and confusion. “You never get so worked up by mist--” 

“Do you think,” Doyoung slashes through his words yet again, causing Dejun to roll his eyes. Everyone remains still, except Renjun who steps forward towards them, unsure if he should intercept. “Do you  _ think _ just because you’re  _ so great _ now, you can get away with shit like this?”

Dejun stares at Doyoung, his eyes reddening with tears that threaten to fall.  _ Is he hearing this right?  _ How could such vile words slip out from the lips of the one he sees the universe in? They hold each other’s gaze, one challenging, the other on the verge of crumbling. Dejun used to seek comfort, safety in the delicate glassy eyes. But being faced by the distant drought makes Dejun’s stomach churn. He feels sick. He picks at the skin of his palm, anxiety washing over. 

Dejun doesn’t know what hurts more, the man he loves shouting in front of the rest of his members, or his safe haven spouting the worst form of spite. 

Dejun breaks the eye contact first, looking down to hide his tears, his fringe obscuring his eyes. The last time he felt such was when Kun had found out about him and Doyoung. Except now possibly tenfold. Yet, he understands it all before that Kun’s intentions were for the good; what he cannot fathom at that moment, or in any moment in the future, is the love of his life, spitting words of animosity that he would never have expected. He’d rather Doyoung’s anger be directed at something he did, something that spoiled them both. Hearing him accuse him of something he never did or say utterances so detrimental to his confidence, just shattered Dejun into pieces there and then.

“Doyoung hyung,” Donghyuck and Renjun say in unison. 

Dejun grows limp and helpless. He sits on the fence between disbelief and hurt, and the sharp edges of which shreds his skin and bleeding open wounds. 

“Dejun,” Ten calls, emerging from the curtains, grabbing his arm. He continues speaking in Mandarin, “Let’s go. Let him be, don’t care too much about him.” 

“I understood that,” Doyoung hisses, a spiteful smirk across his lips.

“Really?” Ten raises a brow, leering at Doyoung. “Then you sure hell better understand what you just did.” 

Ten rolls his eyes and drags Dejun out of the room. With permission, they head back to the dorms first before the rest. Seeing the familiar walls of their home at least makes Dejun relax again, the consuming anxiety from earlier diminishing slowly. After they change out into their comfortable clothes, Ten joins Dejun on the couch with a glass of red wine. 

“Taeyong is his everything,” Ten starts, causing Dejun to look up at him as he pours wine in both their glasses. He’s surprised that the first thing Ten says is in defence of Doyoung. “When it comes to Taeyong, Doyoung turns his back against the world. When we were trainees, Taeyong injured his back for the first time. Doyoung was the most affected. He literally hated every one of us including himself, it was a tough time for him. Seeing it relapse like this in the middle of such a big point of our career probably affects him tenfold.” 

Dejun keeps his eyes on Ten, not wanting to interrupt his rumination. He rarely sees this side of Ten, understanding and rational. Most of the time, he is faced by the snarky and sarcastic individual, so much he forgets that behind the mask lies an empathetic, reliable and protective support anyone can rely on. 

Ten takes a sip of his wine before resting his back against the couch, glancing at Dejun whose eyes are empty. “So, what are you going to do about this?”

He didn’t think about that. What  _ is _ he going to do? 

“We all see it Dejun, we can’t pretend it’s not happening anymore,” Ten declares.

Define  _ it _ . No, Dejun knows exactly what  _ it _ is. They all see the distance between them, see Doyoung’s attitude, see the way he treats him now, see the immense pain that scorches the back of Dejun’s mind and lacerates his heart. Dejun wants to escape from this conversation, because truth be told, he wants to believe that there is nothing wrong with them, that everything will just be a passing storm cloud. 

But he also knows that even if it is a passing storm cloud, he needs to be the wind to blow them away, to be the one that clears the skies and let the rays of sun shine the rainbow to their relationship again. 

Dejun also understands that there is no right or wrong way to go around this. No one way that can guarantee a desired outcome, and that they inevitably have to lose something or another. Yet, with his self worth being questioned, Dejun doesn’t know if he should be doing things to help the situation or himself, all he knows is he wants Doyoung to be okay again because he decides that the stoic expression of his lover that he has to face every single day is the definition of pain. 

And as if on cue, Ten takes the words right out his mouth into articulation.

“Save him, or save yourself. The choice is yours, Dejun.”

When Dejun thinks about it, he doesn’t truly know the difference between saving Doyoung and saving himself. He feels that either way, he would lose. He would lose the love of his life, and a section of his sanity. 

They haven't spoken since the incident, trying their best to avoid one another. Even during overlapping schedules, the two don’t come close to one another, keeping their distance and staying miles away. The advantage of having many members, Dejun thinks.

Dejun has grown so much since the 2020 project commenced. His confidence blossomed, and his physical health had improved as well. He also lives a little more in reality than just in his imagination bubble at the corner of his cafe. Not to mention, he has become considerably more sensitive and compassionate towards the people around him. Previously, his members often called him out for being too insensitive with his words or mindset that it was slowly giving a negative energy in the team.

Yet, despite his thriving changes, he can’t help but to think of the words that darted out of Doyoung’s mouth. How did he make such harsh utterances sound so easy? Dejun tries not to doubt himself, as he shouldn’t, but he wonders if he had gotten too complacent. 

The days that ensue literally drags on. Dejun tries to live through his days as normal as possible, staying close to his brothers which admittedly, has been awhile since they truly hung out together as a seven. 

The first time they drink together again, Dejun learns many new things from observation. He notices that Kun’s fingers linger a little longer on Ten’s after they reach out for the glass to rest on the couch between them. He also realises that Yangyang is past the period of his curfew and drinking restrictions, and in fact, surprised by his high tolerance. He also discovers that he misses the way his brothers made him feel at home, and regardless of the imminent storm stirring up within him, he resorts to being at peace. 

Hearing from Hendery how his unit, though initially intimidating, makes him feel at ease and has helped him through his journey, Dejun reminisces his times with Make a Wish. Frankly, unlike Hendery who mingles with everyone in his team, Dejun realises that he has been living too much in Doyoung’s shadows. 

_ Maybe he was indeed too blinded. _

After occupying more days with just his members, regaining himself, Dejun finally decides that it’s time to face the music, and try to fix it with at least the slightest effort he could. He knows that by avoiding it, them avoiding one another, will ultimately not bring them anywhere. And if Doyoung doesn’t want to step forward, then he will. In fears of backing out, he slips out his phone from his pocket and immediately sends a text.

Dejun

_ Hey, can we meet at the lake today? [2.08pm] _

Doyoung hyung

_ Sure [5.56pm]  _

Arriving first, he takes a seat at the bench that faces the body of the lake. He smiles to himself, seeing that the waters are calmer in the evening. He thinks he has grown to be like Doyoung who craves for the tranquility of the lake when his mind is a clutter. Dejun, with both hands stuffed in the warmth of his pockets, spaces out and gets lost in the memories and sentiments that he would never want to forget, no matter how gut-wrenching the day would turn out to be.

He reminisces the day Doyoung walks in with his ashy purple hair; the beam across his porcelain features when he first peeks into the recording room; the concoction of heat that stirs between them in their first kiss at the lobby; the desperation of lust that creeps up their veins the night they got together; the symphony of laughter from the times he spends his days with the rest of his bestest friends. 

Soon, his vision blurs from the tears that brim his eyes, he flutters them shut, only concentrating on the sound of the wind whistling against the bare trees. The melody of the larks and the rustle of the leaves from the summer and autumn they spent together have vanished, leaving Dejun trapped and choked by the cold air of winter. 

The presence behind him snaps him out of his trance. He turns to see Doyoung wrapped up with a woollen brown sweater, a black coat. The sight of Doyoung reliefs him but also constricts his chest. Dejun shrinks a little at the sight of Doyoung’s eyes. His eyes are empty. The sparkle that Dejun once sees in his eyes wanes to hollow. 

“Hey,” Dejun says, getting up and reaching his hand out.

Doyoung stares at his arms vacantly before merely leaning into for a brief second before taking a step towards the bench. They sit in silence for a long period of time. Dejun knows that he  _ has  _ to say something, recognising well that Doyoung wouldn’t speak. Yet, with all that knowledge, suddenly, all the words that he has been rehearsing for the past week dissipates into thin air. 

“Is there something that I’m doing wrong?” Dejun mumbles as a start. 

_ Silence. _

“Would you tell me, so at least I know?” he tries again, pleading.

“I don’t… It’s not you, I just--” Doyoung whispers after a long while of silence, not lifting his head up. He takes another deep breath. “I don’t think this is what I want anymore.” 

Dejun always believed that he is a cynic when it comes to love. It can’t be blamed, he  _ is _ a cynic at most parts. Prior to meeting Doyoung, he relentlessly believes that no two will ever have a happy ending.  _ We all die anyway,  _ he used to joke whenever someone refuses to accept his views. He also never does believe that he will ever find someone that would love him, at least not in the way that he’d ever give love. More than that, he cannot fathom the possibility of giving his heart to a one and only person throughout his entire life. They all stem from the countless abandonments and betrayals from friends, family and lovers; he finds it less painful to be the cynic that his experiences have shaped him to be.

But at this very moment, sitting beside the love of his life uttering the most feared words he could ever hear, he knows: the constant mantra telling himself he is a cynic was a mechanism. Because the stab he feels in his chest and the endless bleeding likens one of a hopeless romantic. 

Believing that he was a cynic ensured foolproof heavy iron walls preventing him from possibly crumbling. But here, he learns that in the shadows of his dark thoughts, his heart lives in novels and poems on a bed of roses. Truly, he is an idealist, a dreamer with fantasies of a dozen characters. In his bubble of thought, he is Amir who envies Hassan, Elizabeth whose feelings changed for Darcy, Rose who eternally loves Jack, or the kindred souls of Jane and Rochester. Yet, as the house of cards crumble in slow motion, as all he is is fatalistic Elio who knew deep down that he was doomed to never having Oliver, or Desdemona who dies from the mere insensibility of Othello’s love for her.

“I knew you were thinking that for a while now,” Dejun says, pride urging him to feign nonchalance. 

It is clear as crystal, if Dejun admits to his intuition. He does understand that Doyoung may have little time on hand, but Dejun doesn’t expect much from the beginning. He thrives on the smallest gestures of  _ how are you _ and  _ have you eaten _ , but receiving not even a single greet each time they cross paths puts him on edge. Even if they did, Doyoung’s loose touches, cold eyes, and dead voice were harbingers of the approaching glacial winter of their end. 

For a whole hour, they sit with a foreign distance between them and their hearts. Neither of them move or say anything and whether the silence is comforting or mocking, is entirely all in their heads. As the night deepens, the velvet darkness cloaks the lake and even the moon evades them. 

Amidst the stillness, Dejun reminisces the night in the cafe that they spent till five a.am. And Dejun wonders if the night would permit them to stay that long again. But here, they are bare and in the open, and their minds are fugitives who seek refuge in the forest that lay across them. 

“You changed me, a  _ hell _ lot. And I’m thankful for the person you made me become,” Dejun whispers against the soft winds that brush against their hair, replacing their own touches that once comb through. “Remember when you said that I should change myself for me and not for you?” 

Doyoung lifts his chin only slightly to look at the latter. “Mm.” 

“You were right,” he breathes. 

Another silence ensues, mostly from Dejun’s feeble attempts in holding back his tears.

“You know, when we first got together did you like me in pity of the way Jaehyun treated me?” Doyoung mutters. 

The tears that welled up in Dejun’s eyes spills, and he turns sharply to Doyoung, boring holes into his side profile. “What did you just say?” If his heart isn’t already wrenched, then the invisible daggers that are held to his heart stabs him repeatedly at the statement.  _ Pity? _ He repeats in his head incredulously. 

_ Pity is one of the most wretched feelings, he remembers Doyoung saying. I hate it when someone pities me, it's as if they think that I am in a worse situation than them, and it makes me feel humiliated, as if my misfortune is worse than it actually is. I don’t need someone to feel bad for me, you know.  _

“I’ve put my stupid beliefs aside for you, I tried all I can to give you everything, and I--” Dejun chokes up from speaking. He wishes at times like this that he is more rational in speech. “We always talk about things, that is one of our strengths, isn’t it? But why is it you never told me this?” 

“I didn’t want to burden you with it--” 

“But if I knew I would have done something, you know. At the start I just thought that you were tired, and you were, maybe I didn’t understand well enough, but I thought I did. I gave you space because I thought that was what you needed. If distance was only searing us apart, then I would have done something earlier. I kept quiet, I kept quiet because I was afraid that if I said something like all other times I have in my past, you would leave me just like  _ they  _ did. But what was all of that for if in the end-- in the end, it’s come to this. I would’ve tried my hardest to fix it, but what am I supposed to do if I never knew it at all?” Dejun says exasperatedly, days arduous days of bottling up finally spilling from his lips.

Dejun knows he is selfish, that midway his utterances proved selfish. But without his love and the fort of comfort he had been depending on the past few weeks, he just had no one to talk to. He doesn’t want to put the burden on his members either, but it is just so unlike Dejun to keep everything bottled up, only because one day, one day like this, his heart would bleed from the attempts of holding all of them in. 

Despite all of what he said, Doyoung remains silent. 

With that, Dejun knows he is resolute with his decision. Deep down, he knows there is nothing that he can do to save them at this point. Nonetheless, he tries. He strives through all the strains of his heart because what else could he lose? He has already lost his universe. 

“Do you need time?” Dejun whispers, fearful of the answer.

Doyoung shakes his head and Dejun turns to look at him, his eyes reddened causing Doyoung to look down again. “I don’t think that’ll help,” he utters, stoic and resolved. Dejun misses his breathy, airy laughter that coats his melodious voice as he speaks, and he would sprint a billion miles to find the edge of the horizon if it means that he can hear it once again. 

“I’d wait for you for the rest of my life if you want me to,” Dejun resumes after inhaling deep. “But what… what use is there, when I know you already don’t want this?” 

_ Silence. _

“I just,” he pauses. “I just want you to know that there is someone here, willing to fight for you, and will never leave you no matter how tough times get. And I want you to know that I love you, before, now, and always.”

From the corner of his eye, Dejun sees the latter’s phone light up for the umpteenth time in the span of the hour. He inhales deep and lets out a sigh, “Go home, the hyungs must be waiting for you.” 

Doyoung picks at his skin beneath his nail for a brief moment before taking out his phone to respond to his messages. He stares at the screen mindlessly before sliding them back in his pockets. As if pulling the trigger to the gun he held against Dejun’s heart, Doyoung stands up on his two feet and looks everywhere but at him. Time stops when Dejun feels the string that once attached them both incinerates. 

If Dejun senses a slight hesitation as Doyoung takes his first step forward, he doubts it. He faces the icy lake in his cold countenance before making a move. When he walks past, Dejun takes in a whiff of the familiar scent, reminiscent of the way it used to intoxicate and comfort him all at once. Yet, this time, the same scent clouds his mind and wrenches the veins of his heart, winding through every cranny of his ribs and twisting them apart. 

With every snap of his veins, he starts to feel a cluster of panic bubbling in his guts. His thoughts accelerate, and so do his breaths. As soon as his chest constricts tighter than it already had been, he lets out a choked cry, unable to breathe. The more he struggles to suppress his racing thoughts, the lesser he’s able to breathe. Desperate to grasp onto something, _ anything _ , he grips onto Doyoung’s wrist before he can walk any further, and manages in a strained voice, “Hug me, please.”

Contrary to what Dejun would expect of Doyoung, the latter loops his arms around Dejun, securing him in an embrace that burns. Dejun hides his face at the crook of Doyoung’s neck, his trembling limbs at least alleviating. To his surprise and relief, Doyoung cards his fingers through Dejun’s hair and lets out a soft hum, mirroring the manner he used to calm Dejun’s nerves. Dejun knows he’s using poison to medicate his open wound, yet he indulges in their piercing sensation, knowing that he will never feel this ever again. 

“I love you so much,” Dejun chokes out. “Don’t forget, please.” 

Doyoung simply nods and is followed by a soft and quiet, “I know.” 

The buzz he feels against his hip bone signals the last knell. He clutches on tightly onto Doyoung’s coat before peeling himself off. Dejun looks down and Doyoung turns his head away before walking off, and Dejun doesn’t see his eyes for the last time. 

With every heavy step that Doyoung takes, Dejun feels the remaining fragments of him shatter. Dejun wraps his arms above his stomach, a regression to when he was younger, an unconscious therapeutic mechanism. 

Walking. Dejun walks his way back to the dorms like a child who lost faith in finding home. He follows wherever his feet bring him, with his head down low, not wanting to face the world ahead of him. The thing that frustrates the  _ hell _ out of him is his inability to hold in his tears. Be it happy, or sad, or angry. He used to believe that he is weak, up until his best friend tells him otherwise. 

_ “Why am I so weak? _ ” he remembers asking the one time he broke down because of his anxiety right before debut. 

_ “You’re strong,” Sicheng comments. _

_ “It is because you are strong enough to face your emotions,” Lucas adds.  _

Bullshit. He thinks all that is bullshit to help him feel better, positivity to compensate for the dull mood in the moment that had an expiry date to them. Because if those sayings were true, then why does he always feel his heart wrenching, veins strangling his gut and his throat choking up and leaving him breathless with every step he takes. As he approaches familiar streets, his emotions get increasingly  _ fucked _ by the memories that flood his mind, only to draw more tears streaming down his cheeks.

He doesn’t realise he has been walking for an hour until he feels the prickling sensation accompanied by soreness at the soles of his feet. By the time he faces the gates of the dorm building, he has run out of tears, leaving him hollow and empty. Eyes dry, and heart in drought from losing the oasis in his life. 

When he feels a looming presence behind him, he snaps out of his thoughts and reaches out for the gates. Arriving back in the dorm, he inhales deep before opening the door slowly. Hendery, Lucas and Yangyang are playing Call of Duty in the front living room, shouting at the top of their lungs, which Dejun easily drowns out. Dejun doesn’t hear either of them when they call out to him, heading straight to his bed.

The next day, Dejun awakes at almost two in the afternoon, choked by the heavy drawl in his chest, as if all the oxygen in the room has been sucked out of ventilation. He reflects on and broods over the promotions of NCT 2020 that have ended, together with his relationship and if that on its own feels extremely scarring.

To say Dejun is not himself for the next few days is an understatement. The bright and clumsy boy amongst that his members knew has shedded all his light and transformed into a deep and dull figure. The only times Dejun resumes his smile is when the camera is on and he is onstage. Thankfully enough though, at least the group’s schedules have lessened ever since the new year started. 

Dejun is no longer even excited about the drama in which he featured in a year ago that is set to release that week. In fact, he loses anticipation for all the hard work that he has put in. Once, Lucas, Sicheng and Kun tried to show off that they are tuning into his drama in the dorms, but save for the slight glance and tiny smile that he forces out, he merely trudges over to his room.

As days pass, Dejun often sleeps too much, something that’s extremely unlikely of how he is usually one to spend most of his hours awake, not wanting to waste a minute. He often wakes up to an empty dormitory, either because he had woken up so late the boys had no choice but to leave him behind, or that they were all having fun without him. 

He doesn’t want to bring them down anyway. 

But one day, he opens his eyes to hear sounds coming from the kitchen, now a rare occurrence. He drags himself to the kitchen to see Kun perched in front of the stove, glancing back as he notices Dejun’s appearance. 

“Hey, you’re awake?” Kun greets casually, as if Dejun had not just ignored his existence the whole week. Times as these he is thankful for the heart of gold that Kun owns, despite his impatience and temperament, would go an extra mile for the comfort of his members. Dejun remembers the day during their trainee days Yangyang had upset Kun by breaching their curfew and acting all childish about it. He had ignored Yangyang for a few days until one of which he learned that Yangyang had injured himself; that very night, he made a trip to the studio with food and medicine in hand. 

Dejun approaches Kun like he’s on ice with a light nod that remains unnoticed. As if he had arrived on time, Kun pours the boiling hot soup into a bowl, turns around and places the bowl on the dining table with a soft smile. “Here, I made soup for you. You seemed to have drunk a lot yesterday.”

It is true, Dejun sure had. In fact, he had reverted to drinking every night, on some worse than others. He is too deluded by his own plight to realise that the members had been trying to hide the bottles into cupboards or under their beds, just so that Dejun doesn’t find them and devour his sanity away. Nonetheless, they do not directly confront Dejun about it. 

Dejun nods in acknowledgement before mumbling, “Where are the rest?”

“The album recording. You should be getting ready soon, your turn is in two hours.” 

They sit in silence, not saying anything much while Dejun slurps the comforting warm chicken soup that if he is honest, he missed a lot. Since the incident, he had not been at the dinner table with the rest of the members nor has he been eating well. But with the familiar taste of home on his tongue, all the tension that had been piled up in his nerves and muscles set free, and he finally relaxes after eons. 

The savour of the soup stirring wanted unwanted memories in his mind, of days before their debut, of their most excruciatingly exhausting schedules and also the day Kun had hoisted the red flags of Doyoung high enough only to be ignored by Dejun. 

_ “I don’t know what he’s doing with you, but you need to stop meeting him like this. Besides the fact that it’s fucking dangerous because you can get caught, you’re in for deep shit.” _

_ “I am not,” Dejun retaliates in confusion, unsure where all Kun’s anger had arisen from. “I know what I’m doing.” _

_ “Dejun, you don’t know shit.” _

“You’re right,” Dejun says heavily, a while after, unaware that he had been crying in the loss of his thoughts. “I should’ve stayed away.”

“Dejun--” Kun sighs regretfully. No matter how  _ right _ he was, he didn’t want Dejun to start to think that way and blame himself at this point. It was all in the past, and Kun doesn’t want to bring it up again. Sure, it is a painful experience for Dejun now, and even more painful to see him this way, but Kun also remembers how happy Dejun has been with Doyoung; and despite the fact that he wishes Dejun doesn’t have to handle this excessive turmoil, he is glad that at least, for a period of time, Dejun once found himself with someone that makes him a whole lot better.

“No, it’s okay,” Dejun smiles, reassuring the elder. He knows Kun was right before. Maybe, just maybe, if he had stayed away, then all these pain would not have existed. 

The next time all twenty three gather for their closing conference to mark the official end of the 2020 promotions and to discuss the future plans for the rest of 2021. Unlike the smart and well-dressed member he used to be, Dejun attends the conference half heartedly, a loose black shirt and a casual coat on. Unlike the first time he has ever walked through the doors, this time, he is one of the last ones to arrive.

Dejun is unaware, or immune rather, of the eyes that follow him as he drags himself to his seat. Indeed, all eyes do follow him, all except one. And no one has to pay too much attention to know whose eyes are glued to the table in front of them.

When the conference starts, he flicks the switches to his professionalism on. Something the other members admire about him; no matter how tough it gets, when it comes to work, Dejun does it unfazed. He actively listens, and even responds to different suggestions the management proposes. 

But  _ that is also the problem.  _ It is so out of character for Dejun to do that.

Despite that, the moment the conference ends, he deflates into glum once again. His cold demeanour returns, and his eyes lose essence.

At home, he does manage to speak to Yangyang, most out of obligation or his attempts to silence him. He does understand that the latter is trying his best to cheer him up, and make him feel at home again. Find his home again. Dejun doesn’t feel irritated though. He doesn’t feel anything, in fact, living only like an empty shell of a bullet.

Renjun

_ I hope you’re doing fine  _

_ It’s been awhile since we’ve met  _

_ Maybe I should come over soon [9.03am] _

He lies in bed staring at the message. When he actually reflects over the days that he has lost, he comes to the realisation that everyone around him had been trying to pull him out of the trench he had been lying in. People do care about him. Only now, he learns, that the only thing holding him back from finding light again, is himself. No matter how others try, if he is going to continue to brood over something, then nothing of the situation will get better.

Slowly, he pushes himself to speak to the rest a little more. The members do not mention anything of the past, as if a taboo in the conversation; yet, the way they treat him is unchanging. 

Dejun misses this too. He feels like home again. 

Though he ditches ignorance, he starts to cope in other ways. On some days, he finds himself with a new piercing and chain around his neck, other days, he finds himself holding a glass of Glenfiddich in the sleaze of a bar.

He sits at the bar table alone, overlooking the dance floor. Most of the people that linger around are in couples or groups of friends. He scans around the bar and no matter who his eyes lay on, nothing propels him to leave his seat to approach. Maybe he, too, is burned out. 

To say the least, he does get surprised by the few people that actually bother to walk over to his corner of the bar to talk to him, catch a drink, or toss a chance of slipping their palms up his thighs. 

But as the night deepens, he gives up, loosens up another button and faces the bartender instead. All of a sudden, someone leans their forearm on the table right beside Dejun, clearly lacking knowledge of personal space. 

“Macallan. For him too, please.” 

Dejun freezes at the voice, his blood running cold.  _ It can’t be _ . 

When the man beside him doesn’t make any further effort to speak, or turn his head even, Dejun does. He glances enough to intake the black long coat and beige loose shirt underneath. Tears well up in his eyes and he curls his fists into a ball as if an automatic reaction. 

_ Doyoung? _

“What?” the man chuckles, turning his head to face Dejun this time, revealing unfamiliarity. “Do I remind you of your ex or something?” 

Dejun heaves all the breath he has been holding in for the few seconds, relief that it had only been in his head. _Right,_ _Doyoung had been ignoring him like a plague anyway, why would he appear in a bar like this right beside him?_

His attention returns to the figure; he contemplates and  _ seriously _ considers speaking in Chinese.  _ Ah, I am new here,  _ he rehearses in his head. 

“Sorry,” Dejun clears his throat instead and reaches out for another shot. 

“What’s a pretty boy like you doing here, anyway?” the man muses, gesturing the drink towards Dejun when the bartender returns with two glasses. 

“Question is,” another voice bellows from behind them. “What’s a fucker like you doing here?” 

Dejun glimpses at the whiskey bottle in front of him, trying to catch the reflection of yet another familiar voice beside him. His breath halts again as if for the umpteenth time that night as a shadow looms by his side, this time between him and the man earlier. He almost decides to ignore it until the other slides a glass of Yamazaki whiskey right in front of him. Dejun flickers his eyes downwards, seeing a shine on the wrist. A Rolex Cosmograph Daytona. 

_ Jaehyun? _

He snaps his head up to see the abysmally familiar smirk. 

_ Great, just the person to appear.  _

“Leave my boyfriend alone, Hyun,” Jaehyun taunts, sliding the former glass of Macallan away. “Take your ugly drink with you.” 

Dejun silently scoffs when the man actually does turn away, not before winking at Dejun, that is. He diverts his attention back to the drink ahead of him. Somehow, Jaehyun always has the talent to repel people away. 

“Boyfriend?” Dejun shudders at the thought, voice full of malice. 

“Least, I saved your ass. That guy’s a dickhead,” Jaehyun says, leaning his elbow on the table top.

_ As if you aren’t, _ he snorts in his head. Instead, he utters a simple  _ thanks  _ before wrapping his fingers around the slim glass. He swirls the drink in his glass and spaces out for a little.

“Heard about your break up with Doyoung.” 

Dejun chooses not to say anything, only taking a sip of a drink foreign to him. He’s surprised by the sweet tasting dominant vanilla in the silky smooth texture. Not something he’d expect Jaehyun to be drinking. He’d imagine Jaehyun to be a bitter type. That’s not until the aftertaste of smoke lingers on his tongue that he nods to himself.  _ Well. _

“What are you doing out here?” Jaehyun asks instead after clearly ignored, gesturing towards the empty shot glasses. “Except the obvious, of course.”

Dejun shrugs, his mouth taking over his mind. “Came to find a distraction.”

“You’re looking for someone to fuck in  _ this _ bar?” Jaehyun snorts as if it’s the most ridiculous thing he has ever heard in his life.  _ It actually is. _

Dejun rolls his eyes before taking in the last drip of the glass.

“Queen.”

Dejun freezes upon the utterance of none other than the most famous  _ forbidden _ gay nightclub situated on the Hill in the hidden alleys of Itaewon. As conservative as it is in such a country, this alley is the only outlet of expression for most part of the queer community. 

“You’re allowed there?” Dejun raises a brow after he regains himself.

“VIP,” Jaehyun comments, slipping out a thick gold card from his pockets in his hand. “Not that hard. They shut up about you, you shut up about them.”

Dejun knows this. None of the guys would risk their entire future for this. Living in a conservative country forces you to shut out truths that aren’t meant to be out. And with every blackmail with someone of higher power, comes with a loss. Jaehyun was right. That’s how things work around here. And Dejun knows it. 

Jaehyun drops his card on the table and Dejun glances at the shining embellished  _ ‘JJ.’ _ “Take it,” he hums. “You can return it to me next time, or any time you decide to chicken out.” 

Dejun’s eyes linger at Jaehyun for a bit longer. He wonders how Doyoung used to be with him. The more Dejun gets to know Jaehyun, the more  _ rugged _ or unsuited they seem for each other. After knowing Doyoung’s true self, a sweetheart and a softie, whenever he faces Jaehyun, particularly in such a current state, he cannot comprehend or imagine how they’d be like. Dejun doesn’t think that Jaehyun is a bad person, he just thinks he’s in a different league, not just with him but many of the other members as well. Now that he thinks about it, he doesn’t really see Doyoung and Jaehyun’s interaction with each other, which piques his interest more,  _ how were they like behind the scenes? _

“Drinks are served to VIPs,” he cuts Dejun out of his thoughts. “All you have to do is hook yourself up with someone. That’s if you can, of course.”

Jaehyun’s words linger in Dejun’s mind the entirety of the next few days. Each night, Dejun fidgets with the card in his hand while lying in bed, contemplating his decision. Finding someone else is Dejun’s ideal way of going around it. 

Some nights, though, where he is honest to himself and his desires, he knows that he doesn’t want anyone else except Doyoung. On those nights, his veins strangle his eyes in red rage, threatening to pour out all his remaining emotions bottled within him.

He knocks the shot glass off the counter of the kitchen, dropping and breaking. He exhales and rubs his cheeks in weak frustration before turning around to clean it up. 

Even drinking stirs an intense exhaustion in his blood, now he decides to retire to his room. When Dejun opens his door, he stares at his bed, tears automatically streaming down his cheeks. His bed sheets have been changed back to the light blue ones he remembers lying beneath him the first time Doyoung and he slept together.

He stays rooted at his spot, the scene haunting his memories like a cyclic nightmare. The way the Doyoung’s milky skin hovers his tanner one, the way his musky scent would linger past dawn. Soon, he swears the scent is present in the room and it chokes him up, as if it was gasoline ready to be burned. Like a  _ cerbera odollam _ being light into flames, asphyxiating the life out of him. 

Dejun tugs the sheets off from the bed and bolts out of his room, looking for Kun.

“Did you change this?” Dejun scowls, tone angered. 

Kun looks at him as if he’s gone crazy. “Yeah? Like I always do?” 

“Why did you change it to this?” he yells at the top of his lungs then hurls the sheets onto the ground. “I stuffed it at the corner of the cupboard for a reason!” 

His raised voice shocks the latter. And before Kun could feel pissed, Dejun is already moving back to his room. His incessant cries that night barely able to be comforted by anyone. Yangyang, who had attempted to calm him down, ends up getting shoved by the Dejun, grows heavily affected by his actions and retreats to sleep in Sicheng’s arms instead. 

That night, Dejun thinks he really needs a drink, and a getaway. So, he finds himself rooted on the ground, facing the bright neon purple LED lights that read:  _ Queen _ . 

Queen lives as a paradox to its appearance. Adorned in blinding neon lights, the grey bricks guard and cafe-like exterior guards the forbidden, hellish bustle that lies beneath. 

Dejun walks over to the vault looking door and scans the gold card on its reader. The door slides open laboriously, black curtains that act as a second seal to the sins that lie behind. Waving the card towards the security at the curtains, he saunters in to reveal the vast double storeyed club that he has only heard of in hearsay. 

He stands at the edge of the steps that spiral down to the main basement of the club, facing the intense purple fog that smothers the rest of the club. In just a glance, he sees the division of the club. Parallel to his vision, the pool tables on the other side of the second level catch his attention first. The casual atmosphere above is distinct from the hubbub below. 

Even the performers here are of a different standard, no sleazy singers but professional artistes accompanied by a professional hyped DJ on a podium of an expansive set decorated with dancing LED lights along with the upbeat pace of the music. 

It is undeniable that wherever Dejun goes, stages are one of the first things he notices. The stage is not one he’s used to though. Even if he has been to clubs with strip poles, the towering six poles that connect to the upper levels of the cafe proves this club a grandeur. On stage, there are dancers that are adorned in black custom dresses embellished in intricate designs, lingering amidst the club goers. 

As he walks down the steps, his eyes averts to the sections of the club. It is easy to differentiate the classes of people, some in suits, mostly at the couch with a group of people, alone or already making out with someone, some in sparkly dresses and some more obvious escorts who are adorned with chokers around their neck. The ambience of the couches that lie towards the back of the club seems to be a place that he’d find Jaehyun in, probably sitting amidst his infamous friends. For a brief moment, he wonders if Doyoung has been here with him. Quick enough, he brushes away the thoughts. 

His body stiffens slightly when he feels an arm around his waist. He turns to see a man in a velvet purple suit, the silk choker around his neck with prints  _ Queen _ . Bartender. The man releases his hands from his waist and takes a glass of Belvedere and hovers it beneath Dejun’s nose. The strong scent of the drink stings his nose but he takes it anyway. 

_ “Drinks are served to VIPs,” he remembers Jaehyun saying. “All you have to do is hook yourself up with someone. That’s if you can, of course.” _

Dejun decides that he loves it here. While he walks across the bar with one hand stuffed in his coat, the other holding his glass of Belvedere in his hand. He nods at the man and halts for a moment in wonder if he should be joining the main floor or the couches. The deafening music, an atmosphere Dejun would not have expected to be at, only prompts him to move towards the back of the club where the music at least drowns out a little. Amidst walking to the back, Dejun catches sight of a few familiar faces, most of which he cannot put a name to. 

True to what he suspects, a familiar stature and build, he sees Jung Jaehyun at the corner of the lounge. It comes to almost no surprise that he sees Jaehyun here despite him holding his card. Jaehyun, with a lighted cigarette between his lips, is leaning against the wall with a man standing in front of him handing him something. The corner of Jaehyun’s lips curve up into a smirk and he lifts his chin slightly as a greeting. Dejun only offers a mere smile before averting his gaze somewhere else. In the process, he catches a glance of a white packet in the other party’s hand. Coke, he recognises. 

Dejun inhales deep and walks off to the side of the bar. It is no doubt that things like these do happen in such a bar, especially when they are mostly made up of people in the top tiers in the industry. 

As it grows increasingly chaotic with the performances commencing, Dejun finishes his next glass and decides to leave. 

When Dejun arrives home he finds Yangyang on the bed, eyes focused on the score sheets in front of him, frustratedly pressing the keyboard. Having connected his keyboard to his earpiece, Yangyang barely hears anything. From that, Yangyang doesn’t realise that Dejun had stepped in, only when he playfully ruffles Yangyang’s hair in attempts to calm him down and walk over to his bed, does Yangyang turn around sharply, and breaks into his signature warm gummy smile.

“You’re home,” he comments, clearly relieved to see Dejun home. “Where did you go?” 

Dejun glances at the door to ensure that it’s closed before sliding a card out of his pockets. Yangyang stares at the card for a longer period of time, as if trying to recall what it is. Definitely, out of all people, Yangyang would be a stranger to this. 

But, Yangyang surprises Dejun.

“You went there?” he raises a brow, pursing his lips as his eyes trail the card embellished with the name of the most forbidden places. 

“Mm,” he hums. “I didn’t see anyone much though, except Jaehyun.” 

“Jaehyun hyung?” 

“Yeah,” Dejun waves the card in his hand again. “This is his.” 

“What were you there for?”

“Don’t know, I wanted a distraction,” Dejun huffs, falling onto the bed, not wanting to make any further suggestions like, oh, nothing,  _ I went there for sex _ . 

“Did you manage to?” Yangyang questions quietly, setting his keyboard aside. 

Dejun, shakes his head.  _ Saw stuff I didn’t plan on seeing so I left,  _ he says in his head. 

Yangyang gets up from his seat and walks over to him, stopping right in front of his knee. 

“Let me be your distraction.”

Dejun, still tipsy from his strong alcohol, looks up at Yangyang, his eyes growing dark with lust in an instant. He never thinks that Yangyang would have caught on with the suggestion behind Dejun’s words. He never thinks he would ever look at  _ his _ best friend Yangyang in this manner. He sucks in a breath as he glimpses at Yangyang’s eyes, hidden behind his fringe. 

When Yangyang senses Dejun’s muscles tense, he takes it as a green light. He steps forward and settles himself on Dejun’s lap. He flips his hair back, now eyes visible and naked in front of Dejun. Yangyang licks his lower plump lips as he smiles at Dejun, wrapping his arms around his neck. 

Seeing Yangyang so innocent, so pure, so vulnerable, looking at him through hooded eyes, Dejun is overtaken by another form of ecstasy, one he’s never felt before. He leans in impatiently, having craved for sweetness on his lips, and presses his lips hard against Yangyang’s. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> please do tell me what you think of it, what do you think or want to happen next or your thought processes while reading. i'd love to know! or if there's any part you don't understand, feel free to ask too! 
> 
> ps. that part in nct's kbs performance with doyoung and xiaojun was actually really cute i hope they laughed about it at the end instead ♡

**Author's Note:**

> while posting i noticed a few mistakes, i'll fix that asap!


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